Foundation
by Zlo1313
Summary: Mihael was just a basis, an idea. Mello was the result of that idea. Slight AU.
1. Prologue

**Alrighty, I'm updating this and ****_Archive_****. Wasn't happy with them; I rushed through them and so I'm going back to them! Review please!**

**I do not own Death Note!**

* * *

Mihael. Who names their kid Mihael? I would have been content with "Michael", but my heritage liked to complicate things. "Mihael" implied royalty, a man with power. Maybe have "the Great" added onto the end. "Mihael the Great." More like "Mihael the Unlucky." I should get an award for the insurmountable times things have gone wrong for me. Given my progenitor, I would have been set for life had it not been for a bottle of brandy and a gun.

Murder. A burglary gone wrong. That is what the people would hear. They accepted it as the truth, pitied the boy who survived, the boy forced to witness his parents die. No person is ever the same after that, even if their memories of it are fogged over.

A pseudonym. I grew obsessed. I could never beat him. Why couldn't I beat him? Who did it matter to anyway? Was I only trying to prove a point to myself? Or was it for someone else? If so, who? Such useless questions. I have no use for useless things. Everything needed to be profitable toward my grand scheme. Whatever that was. I'm not so sure of it myself.

Disappointment. I had no purpose in life. They had taken it from me, twisted it into something grotesque. I needed to prove myself even more so. Be the best by any means necessary. Even if it means losing my own soul in the process.

Death. The pain in my chest slams me back into my reality. I didn't want to think about the snapshots of my short life. My unhappy life filled with so many disappointments. I wasn't Mihael anymore. I couldn't stand Mihael, but that was where everything began.

This isn't a journal or some stupid shit like that. It isn't necessarily an autobiography, either. These words aren't written down, they are being spoken. You've either had the great pleasure, or misfortune, of stumbling across me and I will tell you my story. I won't try to remain objective like I attempted to do when I wrote the Los Angeles BB Murder Case. This is personal and I'll add whatever I want to it. First, dear listener, you must understand something.

My suffering started with Mihael and ended with Mello.


	2. Brandy

I was born on December thirteenth. It was especially cold that night, even for Russian standards. I was born to an infamous politician and a former actress. My mother's career ended when she discovered she was pregnant. I always felt she resented me in some way for cutting her fame short. Don't misunderstand, though; my mother loved me. My memory of her isn't clear, but I remember her lilting voice, soft and promising an interesting story should you care to listen. I remember her hair, the same shade as mine, and her washed out blue eyes. She always had a ring of eyeliner around them, which reminded me of a racoon, and painted her lips red. Her name was Anja.

I remember the night of her death clearly. It was the night before my birthday. Father came home early to inform us of a dinner party. It seemed like a normal day. Mother cooed lovingly over the three year old me, nuzzling my face gently with her long eyelashes.

"My little baby, my little Mihael." She smiled warmly.

I stared up at her face in wonderment. To me, she was the most beautiful thing in the world and I felt so lucky to have her. I liked her warmth, the protection her arms gave me. I giggled when her eyelashes tickled my cheeks. My eyes lit up happily and I hugged her soft torso, breathing in her expensive perfume. She pulled me closer and rocked me slowly. My eyes began to grow heavy.

Father entered my bedroom then, dropping his suitcase on the ground with a heaving sigh.

My father's name was Dmitri. He was an esteemed politician of the Nationalist Party. While I can't recall much of him, I know I look like him. I know I have his abrasive personality, his..."any means necessary" mentality. His hair was a faded blond, speckled with gray from stress, and sharp blue eyes. He was an imposing figure, if I'm remembering correctly, a figure I did not inherit. Anyway, back to the happy family.

I squirmed out of my mother's arms and ran to Father, wrapping my arms around his leg. Father's hard face softened as he scooped me up. No smile. Dmitri Keehl did not smile. You know, when I think about it, I smile about as often as he did.

"How is my son today?" He asked me. I rubbed his scratchy cheek. I had always loved his stubble, laughing at his itchy kisses.

"Good. Mama and I went to the park and I played with Vanya!"

Vanya was my imaginary friend, my only companion at the time. I wasn't good at making friends (kind of like now); I was either too rough or came off as rude. I tried to play gentle, but grew bored and would start to push the other kids around until they gave in to I wishes. They'd never invite me to play after. I suppose that's why my friendship with Matt worked; he was submissive and willing to give in without me twisting his arm too much.

Father set me back down on the floor and went to kiss Mother on the cheek as a greeting.

"Did he play with any real children?" He whispered softly.

I heard him. I pretended I didn't and sat in front of my toys. I pretended Vanya wouldn't share, so I chided him. "Vanya, don't be mean! You need to share the toys with me!"

Mother shook her head sadly. "No. He says they make fun of him because of his name. That's why he hits them."

It seemed hard to believe their good natured child would push others around, but that was just it: I knew how to act in front of I parents. I'd rather die than admit to my parents I was the bully.

Father watched me with dormant frustration. There was no reason for a son of his to be ostracized by other children. Then again, Mother had been attempting to expose me to middle class children, which was why I pushed them around. The first class children wouldn't have put up with my shit.

"Anja, tonight Petrenko is having a party. We have been invited. We will be going." He rubbed his beard as he spoke.

She blinked in surprise. "You never go to those parties, though. What makes this time any different?"

"It will greatly help me in the presidential nomination. And a handful of the aristocrats' children will be there. It would give Mihael a chance to talk to children closer to his...social standing." Father quietly explained.

I looked away from where Vanya was supposed to be sitting. I caught my father's cerulean gaze and tilted my head to the side. Father smiled at me and I smiled back, feeling a little sad. I felt sad Father's eyes remained as lifeless as a fish's when he did smile. Not like Mother. My mother's eyes lit up when she smiled. It was beautiful. I'd make a fool out of myself just to see her smile. I'd do it now, too. It was what I missed most of her. I, embarrassingly, practiced smiling with my eyes in the mirror. I was getting the hang of it, much to my pride.

"Mihael, how would you like to make some real friends?" I frowned at the inflection in Father's voice. Was he hinting that Vanya wasn't real?

"I don't like the other kids. They're mean to me. They make fun of my name and hurt my feelings." I sniffed and looked down.

Why couldn't I have a normal name? I always wondered that, even now when I don't even use that name. Mother clucked her tongue and knelt in front of me, gathering me into her arms.

"My poor Mihi!" She simpered. "Remember what I tell you?"

I pulled back from her a little and looked up at the ceiling while I thought. "Um, sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me?"

She smiled and smoothed my short hair. "Yes, that's right. Such a smart boy. When they make fun of you, just remember that."

"Never mind that silly cliche," Father snorted, "you are better than they are. Much better."

"I'm better than them? Why?" I inquired. Why was I any more special than them? I didn't understand and I still don't.

"Dmitri! Don't teach him that! I don't want him to get a big head!" She scolded, standing up.

Father scowled. "It is the truth. Mark my words, Anja, this boy is going to be something. Just look at us."

No pressure or anything. Christ, maybe that's where the drive to be the best came from. It kind of stuck with me, Father's words. At the time, though, I lost interest in the conversation and focused back on Vanya. He was doing a handstand. I giggled.

* * *

I held Mother's hand tightly, looking around apprehensively. So many adults! I wondered if there were any kids my age there. A butterfly touch on my head made me look up at her.

"Mihael, I'm going to take you to where the other children are, alright?"

No, it's not alright. I wanted to say. Instead, I smiled uneasily, forgetting to smile with my eyes. "Okay, mama."

I allowed her to lead me through the crowd of people and into a separate room, which looked like a playroom. Several children were running around in the room. A maid stood silently in the corner, presumably babysitting them. In my opinion, she looked like she wished she was anywhere but in that cramped room with hyperactive children. I didn't blame her. Mother released my hand and I was alone. The children noticed me.

"Hey, it's a new kid!" One exclaimed and then I was surrounded.

"What's your name?" A little girl with pigtails asked, poking my arm.

"Mihael." I forced myself to keep from slouching as I glared defiantly at them, silently daring them to make fun of my name.

Contrary to popular belief, I was a bit of a coward. I put up the "tough guy" facade because I couldn't stand my cowardice. When I think about it, those kids' faces were the friendliest I had ever seen and on top of that, I believe they had dumb names, too. There was no need for me to glare.

"Mihael? Neat name!" She nodded her head approvingly, smiling.

My glare faltered and I stuttered, "H-huh?"

"Yeah, your name's pretty cool!" Another piped in.

I was confused. What was wrong with these children? Pigtails grabbed my hand and tugged my to where the kids were playing a board game. The others followed closely behind. I sat down beside Pigtails as she explained the game to me. It was simple enough, I figured, and couldn't stop the victorious grin when I won.

"Wow, and you've never played before? You're great!"

They showered me with compliments, they stroked my fine clothes. I didn't care if what they were saying was genuine or not, this attention was all that mattered. Pigtails even confessed she liked me, daring to kiss my cheek. I had seen only my parents do that. I felt my face flush and wondered if I was married to her now. I asked her and she beamed, pecking me once more.

"Let's get married!" She chirped.

I smiled shyly. Some of the boys gently teased me about getting "cooties", whatever that was, punching me in the arms playfully. It's kind of embarrassing, remembering that, but at the time it was harmless. I just wish I could remember her name. I never have been good with names. It's a trait I got from my mother. She'd give people nicknames based on their appearance or habits and hoped to God she wouldn't have to call them by name. Petrenko was "Bourbon."

It had been a good night, but it abruptly came to an end.

There was a commotion beyond the safe walls of the playroom. The children grew quiet, hearing the once raucous voices turn indignant. The maid shifted nervously in her spot in the corner, jumping when the door slammed open. The children huddled in the corner. I hugged Pigtails, startled. Father stumbled in, his eyes half lidded. His once clean white shirt was stained with red wine and he was bleeding from the corner of his mouth. The children whimpered. I didn't recognize this man. Father's lips came off his teeth in a snarl as his eyes landed on me.

"Mihael. Come." His voice was sharp.

Pigtails clasped my hand tightly in her own as I stood. I looked back at her and gave her an uneasy smile before walking over to my father like a dog with its tail between its legs. It was the last time I ever saw her.

I let out a startled yelp when Father's large hand gripped me by the back of his neck and shoved me out of the room and into the hazy, smoke-filled room.

It was quiet, hundreds of eyes on us. I forgot how to be brave and ran to my mother, grabbing her skirt tightly. Her fingertips lightly touched my shoulder, in what should have been assurance, but felt more like a warning. Father ushered us out of Petrenko's house and into our waiting car, the valet nervously handing Father the keys.

My parents were shouting at each other, Father's voice too loud in that small car. Mother was crying, her beautiful face smeared with makeup. I sat in the back, hands over my had happened? What had made my father so angry? Father swerved dangerously on the road and he turned sharply into our driveway. He got out and grabbed me and Mother tightly, too tightly, by our arms. Mother struggled against him the whole time, screaming at him. I went without a struggle, inhaling the crisp air as though it would be my last time. As far as I knew, it was.

"Let me go! Dmitri!"

I was too scared. My arm was starting to hurt. We were dragged into the living room.

"Sit!" Father bellowed at us, pointing to the sofa.

Woman and child jumped and scrambled onto the sofa. Mother pulled me into her lap, squeezing me tightly to her bosom. I gazed up at my father's furious face and wondered who the man in front of me was. Surely a monster, a demon I wanted nothing to do with. A hellion I happened to look like.

"Mihael, how can you stand to let that whore touch you?" Father inquired, disgust evident in his voice as he glared at his wife.

Whore? What is a whore? I didn't know until several years after this incident. It infuriates me even now how rudely Father spoke of Mother, even after what she had done. It was unforgivable.

Mother cried, "Dmitri, please, I can-"

"Shut up! I am done listening to your lies!" He slurred and I understood what had made him like that. I had seen Father like this only once before, but it wasn't this bad. He wasn't a belligerent drunk.

Suddenly, I was ripped away from Mother, thrown into a corner of the room. I cried, but didn't dare move from where my body hit the floor. Mother shrieked and went to run to me, but then she froze. Her tear stained face was contorted into an expression of fear. I lifted my head and craned to look around her body. I whimpered when I saw the gun. Its metal skin glinted malevolently in the lighting of the room. I had been unfamiliar with guns before this, but I knew of them, knew how dangerous they were. They were loud like thunder, but burned like fire. To me, they were magic.

"You had an affair with Petrenko, did you not?" Father's voice was softer now, as though he were crooning sweet-nothings to her.

"D-Dmitri, please...Not in front of our son." She pleaded quietly, her blue eyes locked with my equally scared ones.

She flinched when he dug the gun sharply into the back of her skull. "Answer me! He deserves to see what a whore his mother is. Mihael, pay close attention. When a woman betrays you, you will do the same thing."

"W-what are you going to do to Mama?" I asked shakily, sitting up.

Father only smirked at me. He cocked the gun and Mother began to hyperventilate. He repeated, "Answer me."

She shut her eyes tightly before opening them. The fear was wiped away from her face, replaced with a frightening expression. Nothing. I despised that expression. It was one of the reasons why I hated Near; every time I looked at him, all I could see was my mother's final expression.

"Yes." The gunshot rang out through the room and I watched, eyes wide, as my mother's blood stained the walls and her body slumped to the ground.

"M-mommy?" I wanted to crawl over to her, but my body wouldn't move. Now, it was just me and my father.

Father left the room and came back a few minutes later with a glass of brandy in his hands.

"I've always loved brandy. It's so smooth. German-made brandy is the best." He said nonchalantly, gazing at my cowering form.

Why was he so nonchalant? He downed the drink in one fell swoop and picked his gun back up. I curled into himself, quivering. All I kept thinking was it was my turn. I didn't want to die. There were still so many things I needed to experience! He smiled gently at me, eyes as lively as a corpse's.

"I love you, son. I loved your mother. That is why I did what I did to her. To save her. And now, I join her, too." He put the gun up to his temple.

I cried out, "No!" just as there was a second shot.

Father fell beside my mother's corpse. The tears fell and I finally moved. I crawled in between my parent's fallen bodies, their blood warm, and soaking into my clothes and staining my skin. The grandfather clock in the room, splattered with blood, groaned twelve times.

It was my birthday.


	3. Wammy

The police didn't arrive until the next morning. The maid had found me, saturated with my parent's blood. She thought I was dead, too. I had nestled myself between their cold bodies and cried myself to sleep. Now, with the gray light of morning peeking through the windows, I was awake and being dragged away from the bodies. I didn't fight the strange hands on my shoulders, lifting me up into an ambulance. I only said one thing during the ride.

"Don't take me to the hospital."

They frowned and ignored my plea, much to my chagrin. The back doors of the ambulance opened, the gleaming lights of the hospital falling onto my face. Why weren't they listening to me?!

"I said no hospital!" I bellowed, struggling against the medic who picked me up.

They restrained me and I felt a needle prick my neck. My eyesight blurred and I could feel my body going lax without my consent. I spat a weak curse at them before succumbing to the tranquilizer.

The next time I woke up, I was strapped to a hospital bed. I was livid, to say the least. Who did these people think they were, restraining me? I wanted to get back at them, so I became uncooperative. I refused to eat and when they attempted to force feed me, I spat the food out in my nurse's face. In response, I had a tube shoved down my throat. I cried. I wanted my mother; she wouldn't let these mean doctors treat me like this.

Having nothing to do but think and look up at the achromatic ceiling, I thought of my parents and what would happen to me now. I had no clue and that made me nervous. I decided, if given the chance, I would reinvent myself. I discovered I had an intense loathing of Mihael. I wanted to be anyone but him.

I wasn't certain how long I had been strapped to that bed. I could guess based on how long my hair had gotten, the strands tickling my cheek. I figured a couple months passed. Why was I still there? Shouldn't I be in an orphanage by now? No one ever visited me, besides the doctors and psychiatrist. It was only my parents and myself; all our other family members were estranged. I knew I had an older sister, but I didn't know her name nor where she was located. I tried asking a nurse where I would be going, but she only ignored me. I doubt she even knew herself. A frightening thought plagued my mind for a while: was I going to be here for the rest of my life?When I thought I was going to go mad, Wammy came.

He entered my room quietly and sat beside me, removing his black fedora as he did so. I just stared at him. He didn't look familiar and I knew he wasn't Russian. He had on a black suit that made him look like he had just come out of church. His gray mustache was neatly trimmed and his blue eyes twinkled mirthfully from behind his glasses.

"Hello, Mihael." His Russian was flawless, much to my surprise.

"Who are you?" I demanded in English. Mother made me learn it in case I wanted to travel. I'm grateful for it now.

"My name is Quillsh Wammy. I come from England to offer you a place in my orphanage: Wammy's House. It is an orphanage where children with special talents, much like yourself, can thrive."

I already liked Wammy and was pleased by how polite I was being treated. He acted like we were old friends. So, I decided to indulge him. "What would I have to do?"

"All you would have to do is take an entrance exam. If you pass, you may come into the orphanage. If not, I will personally ensure you find a home."

"I'll do it. Anything to be taken out of here." I gestured to the thick leather straps confining me to the bed.

Wammy made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like disapproval. "Yes...about that. I will speak to the doctors. It is no way to treat a child."

"They say it's because I am bad."

"You are most certainly not bad," Wammy said sharply, "any child in your situation would have behaved similar."

I snorted, but internally, I believed this old man. It was a gift of his; making you believe whatever he wanted, even if you didn't want to. Hell, he could have told me the sky was purple and the leaves yellow and I would have agreed.

Wammy stood up. "I am going to get a nurse and have you released. I have a flight set up back to England."

I nodded my head eagerly. Wammy gave a little bow and left my room just as quietly as he had entered. This was almost too good to be true. I would be leaving! A few minutes later, a less than pleased looking nurse came in with Wammy trailing behind her. She went over and unstrapped me. I hopped energetically off the bed, falling. Wammy made a step toward me in concern, but I popped back up, brushing off my hospital gown.

"I'm okay!" I beamed and danced around the room a little. I was leaving! I was leaving!

"Mihi is leaving this place! Mihi is gonna be an English gent!" I danced around Wammy, who chuckled softly.

"Mihael, I brought you some clothes you can wear for now. I'm sure you don't want to stay in that gown."

No, I most certainly did not. I wasn't fond of the idea of everyone being able to see my underwear from behind. I stopped dancing and took the clothes from Wammy before going into the bathroom. I looked at the clothes I had been given. It was a black long sleeved shirt and jeans with white socks. I clumsily got dressed, thumping around the room as I struggled to pull the pants on. I had no trouble with the socks and looked at my reflection in the full length mirror hiding behind the door.

I had lost weight and the clothes given to me were a little loose, making me look like I was swimming in them. My hair, messy from resting on a pillow for months, ended just at my chin. I tilted my head to the side and smirked at my reflection. I decided I liked this new hairstyle. I didn't look like Mihael.

"Mihael, are you all done in there?"

I opened the door and went to stand by Wammy's side, taking the man's hand. As we left the hospital, I stuck my tongue out at every doctor and nurse I saw. They couldn't keep me there anymore. A black car was parked out front for us. I got in the back while Wammy got in the driver's side. He drove out of the hospital with my glaring at the cream colored building.

"There is another thing I should mention. There is a ranking system at this orphanage. The children are competing to be the next L. You have heard of L before, correct?"

I nodded. Father mentioned him once. "He's a detective."

Wammy smiled. "That's right. Anyway, the children are given an alias. Once given an alias, you may never tell anyone your real name."

I wrinkled my forehead. "I wouldn't be Mihael Keehl anymore?"

"No, not anymore. I know it is a lot to ask of you, especially when you are so yo-"

"I'll do it." I interrupted.

Wammy looked at him in the rear view mirror with surprise. "Don't you think you should think about-"

"I hate my name. I don't want to remember my parents...or anything that has to do with my past. I wanna be...Mello!" I grinned as the name came to me, even if the spelling was incorrect.

"...Alright. If you are certain...Mello." Wammy had that concerned look again, but I was too busy thinking about reinventing myself. I was being given a chance after all!

* * *

All of my confidence left my when I saw that intimidating building for the first time. My grip on Wammy's hand tightened as my uncertainty grew. The iron rods that made up the gate turned into crosses, giving the gothic building an eerie look. I looked up at Wammy.

"Is it a Catholic orphanage?"

"No, the gate is just...a coincidence, I suppose. Most of the children here do not have a religious affiliation. Come; there is someone I would like for you to meet." Wammy gently urged me forward past the scary gate.

The foyer of the orphanage was warm and smelled faintly of apple pie. The scent was enough to remind me of how little I had eaten for breakfast. I was too nervous about the entrance exam, but found I had no reason to be. I only missed one question.

"The first floor serves as classrooms. The second floor is where the boys' rooms are located and the third is for the girls'. You may go up to the third, but not past sunset. Rooms are assigned to children with the same first letter. No more than three to a room. You are the only boy with an alias starting with 'M', so you do not have a roommate." Wammy said as he led me up the first flight of stairs, then the second.

We went up to the third floor and I noticed I had yet to see another child. It was a bit disconcerting.

"Where's everyone?"

"In lessons." Wammy approached a door on the right side of the hallway. Instead of a number, it had a letter: "C." He rapped his knuckles smartly on the wood.

"Counterfeit? I know you are in there, it is Watari. I have the new child with me and I would like for you to take him under your wing."

There was a crash from the other side of the door that caused me to jump. I let go of Wammy's hand just as the door swung open to reveal a teenaged girl with rainbow colored hair. She was tall and wispy and she tapped thin fingers impatiently on the doorframe.

"Watari, you know I have nothing but the utmost respect for you, but I hate it when you drop the newbies off with me. Why can't the other girls take care of 'em?" She had a strange voice, like she was trying to speak underwater, and an equally strange accent, one I still have yet to identify.

"You have a way with them, Counterfeit. Now, this is Mello. He turned four a few months ago. Please treat him nicely and help him settle into the orphanage." Wammy gently urged me toward her.

I walked past the girl and into her room. I heard Wammy bid me farewell and waved to him in response, all the while examining the girl's room. She was an artist, but not like Monet, or even Picasso. To me, it looked more like vandalism than art. The walls in her room had been ruined by spray paint. It was peculiar, but suited the oddities of her room. She had an entire wall dedicated to a mural in which she had made a gothic capital "C" and had a tiny paragraph beneath it. I dedicated hours of my day to just read the words until I committed it to memory. It said, "We are all mad here. We are the forgotten children of society. We are numbers, ranks, sacrifices. A piece of us rots away every day until all that remains is a permeated concept." There was a giant skull beneath the words, its flesh oozing off. It was the most grotesque and beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"Honestly, I like Watari, but he keeps dropping the rugrats with me!" The girl was grumbling from behind me. Hands lifted me up.

I let out an undignified squeak and glared at her as she set me down on her bed. She knelt in front of me and mimicked my glare.

"How cute. You're trying to be scary." She chuckled. My glare darkened and her chuckle grew into a laugh.

"Ha! You've got a long way to go, MarshMello. Name's Counterfeit, but if you call me that, I will end you. It's just C. I am not a cheap imitation. Hey, if you're good I may even tell you my real name."

"That's not allowed." I replied automatically.

She clucked her tongue, shaking her head at me in what I viewed as a condescending manner. My cheeks burned with anger at it. Who did this girl think she was?

"Love, you've got a lot to learn. No matter what anyone says, you can do whatever you want. There is no such thing as rules. The only limitation is how far you are willing to go."

I listened to her, confused. I didn't understand her until much later in life.

"...And that is your first lesson, MarshMello."

I scowled. "It's Mello!"

C grinned at me. "Yeah, okay. Mello. Something tells me you're gonna contradict that cute little name of yours. Now: tell me about you."

I shook my head. "No."

Her grin, which had remained in place since she closed her door, fell. She was the kind of person who hated being told "no.""And why not?"

I was puzzled by how offended she sounded. I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate it if I tried to pry into her personal life. I looked at my feet. "I don't want to remember about it."

Her gaze softened. "Rough past?"

I shook my head again. "Rough birthday."

C nodded and muttered, "I know how that is. Alright, Mello, I won't ask you about your past. However, you're gonna owe me one for that."

"Fine." I didn't care what it was as long as I didn't have to tell her about Mihael.

I studied her a little more carefully. She looked so frail, like she would blow away in the simplest of breezes, yet the way she carried herself made her appear sturdy. Her face still had a childlike roundness to it and a thought occurred to me.

"Wammy, or Water...er, Water..."

She laughed. "Just call him W, I guess. At least until you can pronounce 'Watari.' You were saying?"  
I tried to ignore my little screwup and continued, "W said that the orphans had lessons now. How come you aren't in them?"

"Oh, I'm second here and one of the older kids. Lessons end at noon for me." Her tone was bragging.

She added, "And the little ones, three to six, are out of lessons at noon, too. Hey, I got an idea! There's another little guy I take care of and I have a feeling you two will be friends! Come on!"

Without waiting for me to respond, she bent down and scooped me up before racing out of her room and down the hall. She went to the first floor, past the dining hall, and took a sharp left into the playroom. She set me down on the plush carpet and went over to where a little white ball was seated on the floor. She lightly touched Fluffball's head and I felt a little pang of jealousy when the other boy leaned into her touch. I had always had a hard time with sharing and I wanted her undivided attention. I stomped over and tugged on her hair. She turned and smiled at me.

"Mello, this is Near. He's a couple years younger than you, but I have a feeling you two will be great friends."

I disagreed. Near, who I decided looked like a sheep, was staring up at me with large, unblinking, gray eyes. He had wavy white hair that stuck up all over the place on his head. He was dressed in white pajamas. The first time I saw him, I hated him. At the time, my dislike of the other boy was uncalled for except for jealousy, but now, I knew why. Near had dead eyes like Father's and an equally lifeless expression like Mother's.

"Hello, Mello." Near murmured, his voice just as lifeless as his eyes.

I grunted and turned my back on him. C frowned and punched my lightly on my arm. "Don't be rude!"

I glowered at her and wandered over to where the linking logs were. I began to build a house. I was able to build in silence before Near came over. He touched me very lightly on my shoulder. I turned to look at him, glaring.

"May I help Mello?" Near inquired softly.

After a long moment of hesitance, Mello nodded and scooted over enough so Near could sit beside me. I mainly said yes because C was glaring at me, like she knew I was going to say no. Near looked at my foundation for the house and began to help build another, smaller foundation.

"What's that supposed to be? We already have a main house." I frowned at him.

"I'm making a guesthouse. For when friends want to come." Near answered, already completing his guest house.

I pursed his lips, then placed a bush beside the guest house. "We need to make our yard look nice."

I ignored the fact I had used "our" instead of "mine." Near nodded in agreement and stood up and walked over to the chest, pulling out plastic pieces of a fence. I resumed working on the house, pausing once in a while to see what Near was up to. He was making a little road and driveway, already having lined the yard with the fence. I was unwillingly impressed by how quick and efficiently he worked.

"We need a car." I said.

Near brandished a black Hot Wheels car that looked more for racing. "Not very conventional, but it will have to do."

"I think it's awesome." I grabbed the car and set it on Near's road, driving it up to the complete house.

Near studied our work, curling a strand of his hair around his index finger. "I like Mello's house."

My lips twitched upward. Stupid kid and his politeness. "Thanks. I like your guesthouse and fence."

C, who had been building a tower of legos, stood and walked over to us. "C'mon, guys. It's almost time for dinner."

She held her hands out to them and we both grabbed one and walked out of the playroom together. It was the first, but sadly not the last, time I ever worked with Near. The next time wouldn't be until seventeen years later.


	4. B

"The best way to avoid trouble is to meet it head-on."

I stopped kicking my feet and stared at C in confusion. "Huh? Isn't that a moron?"

She smiled slightly. "You mean oxymoron? Sort of, but it works for me. For instance, these walls."

She gestured to the walls of my room, which were completely blank. I asked, "What about 'em?"

"They're painfully blank. To you, you see them as walls, but to me, the possibilities are endless. They are a canvas for my imagination, for your imagination. They can be a window, a face."

"Do you tell Near these things?" I interrupted, frowning. I didn't want to think that she was sharing her "lessons" with the twit.

"No, the kid isn't the type. You, on the other hand, remind me of myself when I was your age."

"C, how old are you?"

She tapped my nose with her index finger and winked. "Don't you know you're never supposed to ask a lady her age?"

Mother mentioned something like that before. I always thought it meant the woman was really old. I involuntarily wrinkled my nose. "You aren't a lady, though."

She laughed. "Ya got me there. I'm sixteen."

I wasn't totally shocked, but she was certainly a lot older than I thought she was. "You're really old."

She scowled at him. "I'll be saying the same thing when you're sixteen."

I resumed kicking my feet and looked at my wall. I preferred its blankness, regardless what C said about them. I wasn't a creative person like C and Linda. I liked practicality and usefulness. There was no desire or need for me to express myself.

Her "lesson" made me think of the top successor. "C, does B avoid trouble?"

She stopped tinkering with the radio she had brought in with her, her spine ramrod straight. She stood up and glared at me. "Why would you ask something like that?"

I visibly cringed and tried to make myself smaller. "H-huh?"

She grabbed me by my shoulders and gave me a little shake. "Mello, why did you just ask me about B?"

Why was she so mad? I stammered,, "B-B talks to me sometimes. H-he said he'd share his p-power with me a-a-"

"Don't talk to him. Ever. You hear me? B's a very bad person." Her glare hardened and a tear slipped down my cheek.

"I-I'm sorry, please don't be mad at Mello!" I whined.

C stopped glaring and gently wrapped her arms around me. I sniffled and wiped my face on her shoulder. She didn't mind. "I'm sorry I scared you, Mello, but I really don't want B getting his claws in you. Avoid him from now on...okay?"

I nodded shakily and felt her kiss my head. "Good. C'mon; It's almost dinnertime."

She scooped me up and I hugged her neck. I had been at Wammy's House for a little more than three months. In that time, C had become my mother. I missed my own mother terribly, occasionally having nightmares, but I was glad C filled that void. Even if I had to share her with Near. I glowered at the two year old over C's shoulder until I felt her setting me down on the ground so she could pick Near up.

"H-hey!" I complained, stamping my foot a little.

C casted me an exasperated look. "Come on, Mello, you know Near has a difficult time walking."

She was right; Near had a strange little gait that looked almost like he was limping. I wondered if it was from a past injury or if Near was just playing C. Personally, I thought the latter. Near blinked slowly, drowsily, over C's shoulder and I stuck my tongue out at him before gripping C's sweatpant leg.

I shook her hand away when they got to the stairs and she reached to help me.

"I can do it!" I snapped impatiently, hugging the rail and taking the stairs one at a time.

She smiled and held her hand out to me when they got to the bottom of the stairs, a few minutes later. I took it and we entered the dining hall. She seated us at our usual table.

"I'll be back with food." She chirped before prancing off to where the food was.

Near was seated across from me. I was glaring at him with Near meeting my gaze evenly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He finally queried, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Cuz I don't like you sitting across from me...and you're funny lookin'." I grumbled.

"Well, that wasn't nice now, was it?" The voice made a shiver crawl up my spine as I turned to look at B.

B was the top successor and resident lunatic. Rumor was he killed the previous top successor, A, and just made it look like a suicide. I'll never forget his chilling red eyes, the way they seemed to look through you rather than at you.

B's pale lips curled off his teeth in a gruesome smile as he regarded me, completely ignoring Near. "Hello, Mello."

If C had a peculiar voice, then B had an extremely peculiar voice. I can only describe it as "nails on the chalkboard." I turned around again and crossed my arms, remembering C's warning. "I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"Oh, and why not?" B sounded mocking.

"C told me not to. She says you're bad."

B barked out a laugh. "She's one to talk. Besides, I thought you didn't listen to your foster mommy, _Mihael_."

I stiffened at the mention of my first name. I hadn't told anyone it. There was a chance B had looked at my file, granted, the chance was scintillating. "H-how-"

B tapped the corner of his ruby eye, grinning. "Might I add, you don't have a long life. Maybe twenty, no, no not that long. Lemme calculate...Ah! Sixteen years. It's a shame. You won't live to see your twenty first birthday."

I quivered in his seat and Near looked ready to hide beneath the table.

"B!" C came storming over, balancing three plates filled with food in each hand.

Her colorless eyes, usually so calm, were alight with fury, and she set the plates down on the table none too gently. B waved at her casually.

"Greetings, Counterfeit. How are you this-"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Backup. What are you doing talking to them?" Near and I exchanged a bewildered look at her swearing. She hated vulgarity.

"Just having a friendly conversation. Oh, my. It looks like you're lifespan just dropped some more. Now, you won't live to see the end of this week. I wonder how you'll die, _Clarice_." He smirked at her shocked expression and left.

Near and I looked up at C. Her fists were clenched at her sides and her face was pale. She was shaking, though whether from fear or anger, I wasn't sure.

"C?" She blinked and relaxed her fists, smiling apologetically at us.

"Sorry about that guys. Let's eat." She gave us our plates, but neither of us touched our food when she didn't. She was clearly shaken up by B's words and that bothered me. I understood B did things for shock value. The key was to act like what he said/did didn't affect you. She was breaking her own rule.

"What did B mean? Who's Clarice?" I asked. Near seemed to have given into his hunger and nibbled on his mozzarella stick.

She put a finger to her lips. "Not here, Mello. The walls have ears and mouths that like to blab."

She waggled her eyebrows and I smiled at the typical-C-response. She started eating and I did the same.

Every night, she put me to bed at eight. Near was already sleeping next door, having been tucked in an hour ago. I always bragged to him I got to spend a whole extra hour with her while he couldn't. He pretended it didn't bother him, but I could pick up the nuance expression of envy.

She tucked me snugly in and fluffed my pillow up for me. I watched her as she did so, stifling a yawn.  
"C? Will you tell me now?"

She sighed and nodded, tucking a neon strand of hair behind her pierced ear. "Yeah, alright. My real name is Clarice Hackerman. B shouldn't know it, but he does."

Feeling like I should do the same, I said, "My name's Mihael Keehl."

She smiled slightly. "That's fitting. You look like a little Czar." Her face grew somber again. "He said your name...didn't he?"

I nodded, biting my lip. "He also said I wouldn't live to be, um...twenty one."

C stroked my hair. Now, she looked sad. "He said that, huh? I don't believe it. You're gonna die an old man and you're gonna wave your cane at the neighborhood kids when they walk on your lawn."

She was a liar. I know it was to put my mind at ease, but I will never forgive her for lying to me about my own demise. I never had a chance of growing old. At the time, however, I giggled at the image.

"Yeah, and you'll be right there with me!"

Her face saddened more, if that was even possible. "No...I won't. I'm going to die a lot sooner than you. But, hey, enough with this sad stuff. Get some sleep, 'kay?" She bent down and kissed my cheek.

She stood up and walked to my door. I didn't know why, but it felt like it was going to be the last time I'd ever see her again. "Hey, C?"

She turned around to look at me. I smiled shyly. "Love you."

C smiled back. "I love you, too, little man. Always."

And then she was gone. If I had thought about B's warning, I would have realized tomorrow was the last day of the week.

When I woke up the next morning, it was by myself. No C. I sat up and scratched my head and frowned. She was always there to greet me and give me my morning kiss. I needed to get dressed and find C. I got dressed by myself, doing so proudly. I couldn't wait to tell her I did it by myself. I left my room and checked Near's room, thinking maybe she was just getting him up before coming to retrieve me. It was empty. I ran downstairs and poked my head into the playroom, my eyes scanning over the room. I scowled and looked at Near. Near glanced at me and asked curiously, "Is Mello looking for something?"

"Have you seen C? I haven't seen her all day." I inquired.

Near shook his head. "No, I haven't seen her all day either. Can I come help you look?"

I hated the idea, but it was only fair. Near was the only other person who would even really notice C's absence. Near stood, his spaceship abandoned, and shuffled along behind me as I peered through every room the children had access to. We went outside, we asked the others, we even asked Roger. No one had seen her.

"Perhaps she is under the willow tree." Near suggested, twirling a piece of his hair with one hand and reaching for the back of my shirt with the other.

I swatted his hands away from the umpteenth time and snapped, "We already checked there! And stop grabbing my shirt!"

We were heading to her room on the third floor. The hallway where her room was located was eerily silent, which was unusual. It was usually filled with the sound of girls laughing. I felt Near attempt to grab my shirt again, but I smacked his hand away.

"Something doesn't feel right...I don't like it." I heard Near mutter under his breath.

I didn't acknowledge his uneasiness, stopping in front of C's door. It was always unlocked, but I remembered the last time I barged in on her while she was getting dressed. My bottom was sore for a few hours after that and I learned my lesson. I banged on it and called, "C, come out! We wanna play with you!"

There was no answer. Near was looking around nervously. I scowled and banged harder on the door. "C!"

"She doesn't seem to be here. Let's go." Near murmured, looking around once more.

I ignored him and continued to bang on the door. There was nowhere else for her to be. Then, I was aware of something wet and warm touching the bottom of my feet. Near must have felt the same sensation as we looked down simultaneously. Near's eyes widened when he saw it was blood. I turned to the door again and cried, "Counterfeit!"

Finally, I opened the door and we stepped in more blood. I spotted her body right away, leaning against her bed with her face directed up to her ceiling. She was drenched in her own blood. God, there was so much blood! The walls and floor were saturated with it and her mural was ruined. The coppery scent made me want to gag. I pressed my hands against my nose and mouth. Tears came to my eyes and I turned around to tell Near not to look. A scream tore from Near's lips and his hands scrambled for my shirt, clutching the black fabric in his shaking fists.

There was the sound of footsteps running down the hall toward us, startling us. I spun around, my lips curled off my teeth in an animalistic snarl, ready to face whoever was rushing toward us. I may had only been four, but I would scratch and bite until the end. A teenager with wild black hair appeared and scooped them up, throwing us into the hall. For one terrifying moment, I thought it was B until I saw gray eyes, not red. The teen glanced into the room, his bottom lip quivering lightly despite his composed expression. He was just as shaken as we were. Wammy made his way over to us, his face somber.

"Sir, I cannot find B."

"No, I didn't expect him to stick around after killing Counterfeit. Watari, please take these two to my room to wash their feet. I'll be up momentarily."

Watari nodded his head at the black haired boy and gestured to me and Near to follow him. Near continued to cling to my shirt and I let him as they followed Watari to the room labeled, "L", leaving bloody footprints behind. The old man led us into the bathroom and gently requested, "Would you please sit on the edge of the bathtub?"

I shook Near's hands away and obeyed. Near followed a second later. Watari rolled his sleeves up past his elbows and grabbed a washcloth, dampening it with warm water. I scowled lighty at Watari when he touched my foot. I hated baths, even if it was just my feet. I felt nauseous when I saw the old man wring the cloth, reddened water dripping down the drain. It made the situation all too real.

When both our feet were clean, we were taken to the living room. We both sat on the couch, Near clinging to my arm tightly, while Watari prepared tea. I felt like I was going to be sick. I didn't want to remember C like that, her eyes staring lifelessly up at the ceiling, covered in her own blood. I glared at Watari until the latter removed the teacup from my face. The teenager from before slouched in and sat across from us in a frog position.

"I apologize. I wish you hadn't seen that." He mumbled, taking a bite out of a chocolate bar.

Neither Near or I said anything, both of us wondering how the boy could be eating after seeing that carnage. The boy, noticing me staring at the chocolate, gave it to me, shoving a piece into me mouth. He mistook me for being hungry, I think. I coughed and choked, glaring at the boy. I was not in the mood to eat, no matter how tasty the chocolate was.

"Who are you?" Near asked softly, still trembling from the ordeal.

The teenager looked at him and tilted his head to the side as though he had to think about his response. "I go by a lot of names. I am Eraldo Coil, Deneuve, and L. Here, I am simply L."

My eyes widened in shock and I sat there, gaping. This teenager was the world's three greatest detectives? L continued, ignoring my stupid expression, "You two were very close to Counterfeit, weren't you?"

"C. She wouldn't like it if you called her that." My voice cracked in the end. Near hugged my arm tighter.

L, though his expression was unreadable, nodded and asked in a subdued voice, "You were especially close to her, huh, Czar?"

Near looked at me curiously as I scowled and looked away. I didn't want to know how L knew C's brief nickname for me. "It's Mello. What happened to C?"

L reached for a fruit kebab, sliding a piece of confection off the stick and into his mouth. He processed the question as he chewed. "I believe B deemed her time to be done and took matters into his own hands. Though...he could have killed her in a much more...peaceful way."

I almost disagreed, prepared to say "Or he could have just not killed her at all", but Near beat me to the punch, asking defensively, "How can you say that?"

"Easily. I am viewing it objectively. If you are to be my successor, you must view everything neutrally, no matter your feelings for it. I am sorry that she was killed, but letting your emotions rule your deduction is foolish and not to mention dangerous. Now, do either of you feel like you are to go into shock?"

I was reeling at this information. Treat it objectively? Her death? It was almost offensive and I felt the lump in my throat grow again. L had just given me a coping mechanism, though. I swallowed thickly and shut my eyes. She was just a girl. It doesn't make a difference. Life goes on. The lump went away and I swallowed. I felt...better.

Both of us shook our heads and L gestured to the door. "You may leave. I will send Watari to speak with you should you feel overwhelmed."

Near and I left the room, silently heading to our own rooms. I was in awe of L, he was greater than I could have ever imagined!

"L's amazing..." I said aloud.

Near glared at me out of the corner of his eye. "He's socially inappropriate. He can't even mourn properly. It's impossible to think 'objectively' of the death of someone you care about, especially if they were murdered and you found their body."

Near went into his room and closed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the hallway. I pouted and went to my room. Suddenly, it seemed so different. My room, I mean. I almost didn't recognize it. The walls, once comfortably white, were too bright. I bit my fist and screamed. I bit until I could taste blood.

Tears slid down my cheeks and I sobbed. Trying to think about C objectively wasn't possible for me. I was too attached to her. It hurt and I wondered if I would be able to continue without her. I hated B. I hated him so much for taking the dearest thing from me. It was like experiencing my mother be killed all over again.

Frantic knocking tore me from my thoughts and I went to open the door. Near was standing there, looking oddly human clutching a teddy bear to his chest. His eyes were puffy and red and the tip of his nose was pink. Strong indicators he had been crying.

"What do you want?" I growled, glaring at Near.

Near sniffled and didn't bother hiding his tears. "C-can I sleep with you tonight, Mello? I don't want to be alone."

I gaped at him, startled by such a request. I actually understood how Near felt, for once. I couldn't turn him away when I, too, needed some comfort. I moved to the side and jerked my head.

"Yeah, fine. But don't make a habit outta this, got it?" I grunted as Near walked past me. I closed the door and locked it.

"I won't. Thank you, Mello." I shouldered past him and yanked the covers back from my bed.

Near got on top of the sheets while I burrowed deep beneath them and the quilt, rolling onto my side to avoid looking at Near. I shut my eyes and pretended it was C sleeping beside me. I felt sleep creep up to me.

After a few minutes of silence, Near whispered, "Mello?"

"Whaddaya want?" I slurred sleepily.

"...Thank you."

"Don't mention it...Ever. Go to sleep."

I felt a gentle weight against my back and assumed it was Near's forehead. "Goodnight, Mello."

"Yeah, yeah, goodnight."

I was plagued with nightmares again, both of my mother and now C. They blamed me for not saving them.


	5. Matt

No more than a month since C's death and B's disappearance, life had gone on. Despite her prevalence to me, I moved on and found my memory of her blurring. I swore to myself I wouldn't forget her, yet my goal to be the best wiped C and her "lessons" mostly from my mind. At the time of my five year old life, though, her death was the most important thing to me. I missed her horribly and was always looking for someone or something to fill in the void she had left in me. So, when I noticed Matt on the grounds one night, I thought he was my saving grace.

It was nearly ten at night and I was still working away on my book report, due that morning. I had chosen David Copperfield. I was trying to make sure it was flawless. When I was satisfied with it, I turned my lamp off and stood up, stretching. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw a small figure appear from between the rods of the gate and move to hide underneath a bush out front. Curious, I grabbed my jacket, grabbed my shoes, and left my room.

I moved silently through the dark halls, focusing my eyes on the objects in the hallways. I didn't need to go knocking a vase over and alerting the whole orphanage of my little adventure. No one ever patrolled the halls at night, never finding a reason to despite C's murder. I guess Roger and Watari figured with B gone, none of the other orphans were psychopathic enough to kill one another. I was probably the most psychotic now.

I avoided the creaky sections of the stairs, hopping nimbly over the last one. I slipped through the front door, leaving it ajar behind me. It was freezing out for early April. Or, rather, it wasn't so much freezing as it was breezy. As I neared the tree, I hissed, "Hey!"

The black lump, which had previously been laying on the cold stone bench, sat up instantly and got off the bench. I stopped a few feet in front of the lump and realized it was a boy my age. He was filthy and I could smell him from where I stood. His clothes looked grimy and torn, like he had been wearing them for months. His skin was blackened by inch layers of dirt. It was too dark to tell, but I initially thought he might have brown hair, or it could have been the filth. The boy began to wring his sleeves nervously.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, keeping my voice quiet enough that no one other than the boy would be able to hear me.

"I-I...I'm sorry!" The boy took a step back. I wondered if the kid lived at Wammy's House, too, and was running away. The idea startled me and I invaded the other's space, scrutinizing his face. His terrified face was not familiar.

"Nope, you don't look familiar...Are you homeless?" I pointed at the other kid.

While there weren't a lot of homeless in Winchester, the kid just fit the description to me. He was extremely thin and dirty and smelled bad.

The boy's fists clenched by his side and he yelled defensively, "I am not! Shut up!"

The boy's reaction was interesting enough and I raised an eyebrow. I gestured to the boy's appearance. "Yeah...right."

He growled and suddenly threw a punch at me. More out of reflex than preparation, I caught him by his wrist and shoved him to the ground. I sat on the boy, hugging his waist with my legs, and grabbed him by the back of his head. I shoved the boy's head into the ground when he tried to lift it. I was irritated now. Who did this kid think he was, throwing a punch for no reason? I hadn't done anything. I leaned forward until my mouth was beside the boy's ear.

"I don't like being swung at," I whispered, "so, I learned some moves. Pretty neat, huh? If I wanted to, I could break your arm. You're not too...'attached' to it, are you?"

I laughed at my own joke. I was half joking of course, but the kid didn't know that. I heard the boy sniffle and groaned when I heard the first miserable sob. I had only been joking!

"Hey," I tried to soften my voice, recalling the way C would to soothe me, "I won't break your arm, yeah? Just tell me the truth. You lost your family, didn't you?"

The boy nodded, rubbing his face more into the dirt. I pulled half my mouth down in sympathy, even though the boy didn't see it. "I'm going to get off you now. When I do, don't hit me or else I'll self defense you again, got it?"

The boy nodded again. I got off him and brushed dirt off my knees. The boy got up slowly, probably fearing he would be tackled to the ground again. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. He looked so pitiful, so lost, so scared. I decided he was going to be the one to fill the empty space in my heart.

"I'm Mello. The building behind me is called 'Wammy's House.' It's an orphanage for smart kids. Are you smart?" I said the last part sharply. The kid better be smart.

The boy raised one shoulder and lowered it again. "I-I dunno. I guess..."

I nodded my head. Good enough. I grabbed the boy by his wrist and tugged him toward the building.

The boy stumbled. "H-hey! Where are you-"

"We don't have any techy nerds here. I'm taking you to Roger. He's head honcho when Watari isn't here. He'll know if you're smart or not." I opened the front entrance door and closed it behind us.

I walked over to where Roger's office was, knowing the old codger was still awake, and knocked impatiently on it. Roger opened the door, looking less than pleased, and frowned down at me.

"Mello? Do you have any idea what time- Oh, who is this?" Roger swept his gaze over the redhead, his bushy eyebrow raised with curiosity.

"I found him in the garden." I declared proudly. "He was cold and shivering and guesses he's smart. He's homeless."

For a moment, I thought Roger was going to turn him away, his mouth turned down in a small frown. Then, he sighed.

"Are you up to taking the entrance exam now, or would you like to rest?" Roger asked the boy.

"Now." Roger ushered the two of us into his office where the redhead was slapped with a ten page packet and a pencil and calculator. The boy eyed the set with distaste, but wordlessly sat on the ground.

I slid to the floor beside him, peeking over his shoulder to watch him work. I noticed the boy was making careless mistakes and wondered if he knew the answers he was writing down were wrong. He seemed to be rushing through it and I worried he wouldn't pass. Roger was watching us, though, so I kept my mouth shut instead of threatening him to stop being so careless.

Half an hour later, he completed the exam and Roger quickly scanned over it. We stood side by side, waiting to hear the verdict.

Roger nodded. "Welcome to Wammy's House. I'm sure Mello has already told you that the children here are above average intelligence, or have exceptional skills. There is also more to this orphanage: the children here are the successors to L."

"The kids here also have an alias." I piped in.

He frowned. "But, I want to stay as Mail."

I refrained from snorting. What a ridiculous name, I scorned. If it were me, I would jump at the opportunity to ditch that lame name.

"From now on, you are going to be known as 'Matt.'" Roger disregarded "Mail's" scowl.

I, deciding I was tired and wanting to go to bed, wasn't interested in watching a five year old argue with a sixty-something year old man. I cut in, "Since your new name starts with the same letter as mine, we're going to be roommates."

Roger dismissed us, "Matt's" complaints falling on deaf ears. We walked quietly together up to the second floor. Matt was glaring at the wooden floorboards.

I tried for his attention. "Hey." Matt looked up.

"You shouldn't sulk. At least someone found you right away." I couldn't help but add the last part bitterly. Matt was staring at me in confusion.

I glared at him. "Don't look at me like that. Come on. You need a bath; you really stink."

I pushed Matt into the room labeled "M" and poked him roughly in the chest.

"Don't touch my stuff and do not eat my chocolate if you want to live to see six. Got it?"

"You like saying 'got it' when you feel like being scary, don't you? Matt inquired suddenly.

I blinked. This boy was just filled with surprises. I made a good choice in replacing C. My lips twitched in an effort to keep from smirking. "Yeah, maybe I do, so what?"

Matt shrugged. "Nothing. It's just...you're already scary enough without the 'got it' thrown on the end of your sentence."

I snorted and went over to my dresser to get him clothes. "This will have to do until you get clothes of your own. The bathroom is behind that door."

He turned to look at the door I was pointing at and frowned. "Um..."

I blinked at him before realizing what he was implying. He didn't know how to bathe. I groaned. "Ugh, fine."

I pushed him into the bathroom and made him sit on the toilet. I rolled my sleeves past my elbows and turned the bath on. He jumped at the sound of the rushing water, but pretended not to see it. I turned to him, my hands on my hips.

"Take your clothes off." Instead of listening, he gaped at me instead. Matt always did that when I said something that surprised him. It always drove me nuts. He's known me for years, am I still so unpredictable that whatever I say shocks him?

When he made no move to remove his clothes, I growled and went over to him, all but yanking them off. He gave an indignant squawk, but I ignored it. I wrinkled my nose at the sight of his filthy body. I was going to have my work cut out for me.

"Jeez, when's the last time you took a bath? You look like you rolled around in a dirt hill!" I exclaimed.

"I don't remember." He admitted, looking at his reflection. I was surprised at my response and opened my mouth. What could I say? I'm sorry? I hated it when someone pitied me and I certainly wasn't going to do it to him. I closed my mouth, turned to the bath, and turned it off.

"Okay, get in."

Matt walked over and stared at the warm water. He carefully dipped a toe in, removing it quickly. He stepped into the tub and sank in. He brought his knees up to his chest and looked up at me. While he was adjusting to the water, I had grabbed a sponge and was rubbing it with a bar of soap. I made him turn his back to me so I could wash it. He grumbled and whined with each harsh rub.

"Quit complaining! It's really caked on!" I grunted, my arms beginning to hurt.

The water quickly turned black and I had to drain and refill the tub several times. I dunked Matt's head underwater and put shampoo in his hair. I showed him how to properly wash his hair, and let him wash the rest of his body. I wasn't going to baby him throughout the entirety of his bath.  
I drained the bath for a final time and grabbed a fluffy towel for him. He stood and accepted it. I grabbed a smaller towel and began to rub his hair down for him. He dried the rest of himself off.

"Now that you're dry, do you need help getting dressed?" I asked.

He shook my head and gracelessly got dressed. I went into one of the cabinets and pulled out a spare toothbrush.

"Every time we go to the dentist, he gives us a toothbrush and floss." I explained, holding the toothbrush out to him. He grabbed it and I put toothpaste on it for him. I showed him how to brush his teeth and floss. Matt stood there for a minute, touching his hair and face as though he had never seen it before. Which, he probably hadn't.

My eyes were beginning to feel heavy and I went to the doorway of the bedroom.

"If you're done admiring yourself, I'd like to get to bed." I said from the doorway.

He nodded sheepishly and exited the bathroom, turning the light off. "Hey, where am I going to sleep?"

I jabbed a thumb in the direction of my bed. "They'll probably set up a bed for you tomorrow during lessons. For now, we're gonna have to share the bed."

I wasn't thrilled with the idea, and neither was Matt, as we crawled into bed. Matt pulled an empty wrapper out from behind his head. I rolled so my back was facing Matt and Matt did the same. It was silent, neither of us comfortable enough with the other to really speak. I was too focused on the fact I had absolutely no leg room. I was a thrasher, and considered giving Matt fair warning, but decided against it. It would keep the kid from crawling into my bed if he has nightmares like Near used to. I grew tired with Near always knocking on his door, so I threatened to pop off all his robots' heads. The threat worked; I had my bed to himself and Near found someone else to sleep with: Linda.

Matt sighed and I figured he was asleep by the way his breathing deepened. I closed my eyes.


	6. Why?

That first year of Matt's presence seemed to sharpen the monotony. Day in, day out it was the same thing. I would get up, bitch at Matt to hurry up, eat, study, sleep. Needless to say, I was bored. A bored genius is dangerous, but a bored _me_ was downright murderous.

I stalked around the halls, glaring at anyone who so much as looked at me. I was sulking. Why didn't anything interesting happen at Wammy's? Why was it so quiet? I thought about bugging Matt to entertain me, but the only suggestion the redhead would come up with would be "video games." I wanted something to do, but letting my brain rot was not one of my options.

A flash of white got caught in my peripheral vision and I turned my head to see Near. It was a rare sight indeed to see Near actually walk, but to be lugging a huge project with him? It was an opportunity if I ever saw one.

"Oi, pipsqueak!" I jogged over to Near.

The younger boy stopped and blinked impassively at me. I nodded my head at the project. Up close, it looked like a cylindrical rocket with no tail or wings.

"'S that?" I queried.

"The beginning of my astronomy project. I'm building a model of the space station." Near answered, holding the cylinder a little tighter, as though he was worried I would try to take it from him.

"That's stupid." Sure enough, I wrenched it from him and twisted it idly in my hands, staring at it. It was hollow and made of aluminum. It was heavy even for me, so I was grudgingly impressed a weakling like Near could carry it.

"May I have it back, Mello? It's due at the end of the month and I have quite a lot of work to do." Near held his hands out expectantly.

I hated that. I hated how Near expected everyone to instantly obey him. Instead of giving it back, I rapped it sharply on the pale hands before me. There was a little sharp intake from Near, but his face remained blank. It only frustrated me more.

"Why don't you ever show emotion? I just smacked your hands and took your project. Are you really going to sit there and just 'nicely' ask for it?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes. There is no need to demand it back. I'll get it back one way or another. After all, what use is it to you?"

A roaring sound filled my ears. To this day, I still don't know what made me do it, but I aimed the cylinder and smashed it into Near's face. The latter fell onto his bottom and I watched with morbid fascination as blood blossomed from the neat, perfectly round depression that circled Near's nose.

"That's one use." I slammed it into Near's stomach, winding the other boy.

"There's another." I tossed the cylinder beside Near.

I grinned, mildly pleased at the tears forming in the corner of Near's slate colored eyes. Wordlessly, he got back to his feet, his head bowed like a beaten dog.

"I'm sorry." The apology caught me off guard.

"What?"

Near looked up, his face back to its emotionless state. "I apologize. I must have done something to Mello to warrant that assault. For any harm I have done to him, I am sorry."

I clenched my fists and swung one. It was clumsy and poorly aimed, but it sent Near back onto the ground.

"I know you think you're better than me, but you're not! You look down on me, well, I'm looking down on you!"

This time, Near's face crumpled and he cried like the toddler he was. It didn't make me feel any better, like I thought it would, and the roaring in my ears stopped just as I heard a girl scream for Roger. The weight of my actions caught up to me then as I realized what I had done. I thought about running, but by then, I heard an aged gasp from behind me and knew it was too late.

"Mello, what have you done!" I was pushed roughly to the side by Roger and another teacher.

The teacher picked up Near, who buried his face in her shoulder, and rushed off down the hall in the direction of the infirmary. I stood there, dumbstruck, until Roger gripped me by my forearm, tugging me the opposite direction. I gripped the withered hand, but didn't offer any struggle. I deserved whatever would happen to me. I was paraded past a group of curious orphans. One of them was Linda, the resident artist. She was staring wide eyed at me and I knew she was the one who called for Roger.

Roger threw me into his office and slammed the mahogany door behind him. I rubbed my sore arm, seeing the purplish bruises forming in the shape of Roger's hand.

"Mello, do you realize what you did?" He was starting slow, speaking to me in an age-appropriate manner.

"Yes. I hurt Near." I answered flatly.

"Why did you do it? Surely the boy didn't bother you enough for you to attack him!"

"I did it because I was bored." Even I could hear how sociopathic I sounded. I was disgusted with myself, but didn't voice it aloud. Roger was doing well enough conveying exactly how I felt.

"You know, I could report this to L and he would expel you from here immediately. Since B's...disappearance, L has instilled a zero-tolerance policy. Any student who displays a violent disposition towards others will be kicked out."

I actually took a step back, horrified as I heard the hidden meaning. Roger was comparing me to B. I shook my head and exclaimed, "Please don't kick me out! I'll be good, I promise! It was an accident! I'm not like B! I'm sorry!"

I could feel tears building up, but refused to blink. I would grovel, but I certainly was not going to breakdown in tears in front of Roger. Roger rubbed his face and heaved a sigh.

"I will not report this to L, Mello. However, you will be punished. You are to go to bed without dinner and tomorrow morning, you will come here and alphabetize my files. Understood?"

I was so relieved, I let the tears flow. "I will! Thank you, Roger!"

I ran out of the office and to my room, wiping my eyes. Matt was there, playing his GameBoy. When I entered the room, however, he paused his game and stared hard at Mello.

"I heard you attacked Near. He had to get stitches, or something. What did you do to him?" I couldn't discern Matt's tone. Was it angry, or just neutral?

"I don't want to talk about it." I mumbled, crawling into bed.

Matt sat beside me. He wasn't letting it go. "Are you getting kicked out? Did Roger hit you? Are you going to have to be Near's slave for the next month? Are you-"

"Matt!" I sat up, glaring at my friend. "Enough with the questions! I said I don't want to freaking talk about it, okay?!"

Matt narrowed his eyes, actually looking angry, then shrugged. His face became neutral again. "Fine, whatever. I'll just ask Linda. She's the one blabbing about it all."

"I hate her, she's so annoying." I grumbled, pulling my pillow over my head.

"...So what's your punishment?"

I sighed. "No dinner tonight and I have to alphabetize Roger's files or something."

"Ew. His office is so gross. It smells like cabbage. Why do old people smell like cabbages, anyway?"

"When we're old, we'll know. Just shut up, Matt. I really don't feel like talking."

* * *

I was hardly able to sleep. My stomach groaned and it felt like it was shriveling up inside me. When morning came, I had tired bruises under his eyes and my hair was messy from my tossing and turning. I deserved it, of course. I'm not complaining to you as to how much it sucked I couldn't sleep because I was denied dinner. I hated it, but it was nothing less than I deserved for what I did to Near.

I got dressed and didn't bother waiting for Matt. There was something I needed to do.

Most of the older kids were already in the dining hall, scrambling to finish last minute assignments as they ate. With the smell of breakfast around me, my stomach screamed with excitement, so loud I was surprised no one heard it. However, I ignored the buffet line and marched purposefully over to where Linda was seated with her friends. She was a few years older than me, but was only a head taller than me. I wasn't sure if that meant she was really short or if I was taller than average for my age. If I had to guess, I would put her age being around eleven. She was giggling with her friends, but when one of them nudged her, she stopped mid-laugh. Her face paled.

"What do you want?" She asked, though by the guilty look in her eyes, I knew she understood why I was there.

"You told on me." I couldn't keep the accusing edge out of my voice.

"Well, yeah. I thought you were going to kill him, like B did to-" She cut herself off and she covered her mouth with a hand.

"Like B did to Counterfeit." I finished for her, my shoulders slumping. "I didn't mean to. So stop spreading rumors about what you think happened. I wouldn't kill anyone."

I turned my back on her and went to get breakfast, piling my plate with hash and eggs. I sat down at our usual table and wolfed down my food. I could feel Linda's eyes on me the whole time, but I refused to turn around. When Matt finally staggered down for breakfast, I had finally given up on ignoring Linda and was glaring at her. Her face turned red and she looked away. Smugly, I faced Matt, who had an eyebrow raised.

"Why was she looking at you?" He asked.

"Dunno. She's weird." I replied dismissively.

The room grew quiet and I looked over my shoulder to see Near. Matt had been right, even from where I was seated, I could see the tiny stitches that sewed Near's injury back together. Near didn't look anything like the sniveling mess he had been yesterday, but he didn't seem like his usual passive self either. He scanned the dining hall slowly, as though he didn't recognize it, and walked over to the buffet line in a manner I could only describe as rabbit-like.

Near looked over at me and their eyes met. I looked away first, guiltily. I saw the question in Near's eyes and heard it as if someone had vocalized it.

"Why?"

I don't know, Near. There's not a day that goes by that I regret hurting you like that. I may not have liked you, but I certainly never wished harm on you. I hope you'll forgive me.


	7. Monster

"Yeah right, L isn't afraid of anything!"

"No, that is not correct. I'd have to say I am afraid of...monsters." I looked up at the computer in bemusement.

It was the monthly "Ask L Stupid Questions", as I called them fondly, The orphans crowded eagerly around the laptop. I contented myself with hanging back, nibbling on a chocolate bar. Near, too, was seated against the wall playing with a Rubik's Cube. Matt, on the other hand, leaned over the laptop, studying it. At first glance, one might think he was really into what L was saying, but he had told me before he couldn't give a damn about L or being him. No, Matt was only interested in the laptop. That was the one thing he cared about.

"There are many types of monsters that scare me. Monsters who cause trouble without showing themselves, monsters who abduct children, monsters who devour dreams, monsters who suck blood...and then there are monsters who tell nothing but lie. Lying monsters are a real nuisance: they are much more cunning than normal monsters. They pose as humans even though they have no understanding of the human heart; they eat even though they've never experienced hunger; they study even though they have no interest in academics; they seek friendship even though they do not know how to love. If I were to encounter such a monster, I'd likely be eaten by it because in truth...I am that monster."

I had met L before. L told me B's story and how he fought the real Denuve and Eraldo Coil. They were still out there, somewhere, but they could no longer be one of the world's best. It wasn't the most interesting story, but I committed it to memory just because L told me it. Matt snapped his fingers directly in my face and I flinched.

"Hey, you spaced out again. You should really try to remember to blink." The redhead remarked, voice cracking slightly.

We had entered the awkward and disenchanting phase of puberty. While I had only been lightly touched by the "puberty stick", Matt had been smacked with the whole tree. He was always hungry, his voice cracked, going from squeaky to wrestler in a matter of seconds, and he had a freakish growth spurt that made him nearly six inches taller than me. He even had a red hair on his chest he liked to show off until I threatened to yank it off. I, on the other hand, only noticed I smelled. It was rather irritating; I'd taken to bathing twice a day.

"Shut up, Matt. Your voice is annoying." I grumbled, finishing my chocolate bar and stuffing the wrapper into my pocket.

Matt rolled his eyes. "At least my voice is changing, you effeminate prick."

I punched him in the arm, ignoring his indignant huff, and walked back to our room.

"Who the hell does Matt think he i-is?" I froze. Did I just-

"Did my voice-" I clamped a hand over my mouth, my voice startlingly deep all of a sudden.

"Oh, god! That was fantastic!" Matt snickered from behind me.

"Shut up! Don't make me tell you again!" I snarled, my voice remaining deep.

Matt pouted. "Aw, your voice is staying like that! Mine only stays like that for a few seconds! That is so not fair."

"I'm older than you, Matt, and therefore, more awesome." I said smugly. I rather liked my "new" voice. Had an "angry wrestler" ring to it. I was almost tempted to yell, "Get ready to rumble!"

"Only by two months!" I chucked my wrapper at Matt, hitting him in the forehead. He grumbled and left it in the hallway while he opened our door.

I sat down at my desk and pulled out my chemistry textbook. I had a huge test at the end of the week and I was determined to beat Near. The last test we had, Near beat me by literally half a point. _Half a point_. It drove me up the wall before I went spiraling into my definition of depression, which consisted of eating twice my weight in chocolate bars and lying in bed twelve hours out of the day. Studying, of course. I had to see where I went wrong.

"Hey, Matt, have you seen Cade today?" I asked, suddenly aware I had yet to see my other friend.

Cade came to the orphanage several years ago. I don't remember much of her, other than how disappointed I was with her appearance. I naively thought she would look like the old C. The two couldn't have been more opposites. Cade had shoulder length black hair and murky gray eyes. She was really small, too, and had two scars on her face. B had attacked her family and she came here.

"Do I look like her keeper? I dunno where she is. She's probably in the playroom with Near or something." Matt muttered, tongue sticking out with concentration as he played his game.

I felt a twinge of jealousy. I hoped she wasn't with Near. I knew they were friends, but it still irritated me._ I_ had known her longer (well, technically, we both knew her for the same amount of time), _I_ had spoken to her first. Our door opened and I turned around in my chair.

"Hey, guys." She said, closing the door behind her.

Matt grunted his greeting while I graced her with a smile. "Hey, C. Where were you?"

"The library. I have a research paper due in a couple days and I just finished it."

"What about?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"The Tudor family and how their reign paved the way for current English laws." She answered, flopping down on my bed.

I kept from wrinkling my nose. It sounded awfully boring to me; history never could keep my attention the way War Strategies could. Granted, I was familiar with the Tudor family, but I couldn't remember key characters except maybe one of the Elizabeths and Henry VIII. I was glad I skipped that class.

I looked away from my textbook, my eyes glazing over. I stifled a yawn. Going over the material was so tedious and I was bored. I thought back to L's speech. _They study even though they have no interest in academics..._Did I not have an interest in academics? I certainly tried to, but it seemed to be fruitless. When I thought about it, nothing really seemed to interest me. I was bored. I was uninterested. I was-Something hit me in the head and I instinctively glared at Matt.

"Where the hell did you get an apple?" I chucked the red fruit back at Matt, who dodged it.

"You were doing that thing again. You know, the not blinking thing? The wide eyes and thousand yard stare? Yeah, that thing. Stop doing that. Or, at least, stop staring at me when you do it." Matt scowled.

I scowled back. "I'm not staring at you! You just happen to be in my way when I stare!"

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty." Cade cut in sarcastically, hopping off my bed. "It's almost time for dinner; we should get going."

Matt and I casted each other one last glare before following her to the dining hall. We got their food and sat at our table, laughing and joking. I looked at my two friends and couldn't help but wonder: What will happen to us later? How long is this going to last?


	8. Successor

The news didn't come until a month after L's death. I had been playing football with some of the others on that chilly day. None of us had jackets on, the running keeping our bodies warm. We didn't have classes and I decided to pass studying up to play. I loved football. I was good at it. Matt played once, then chose to remain inside when he realized how much he hated being outside. He kind of became agoraphobic since he had a roof over his head.

I hit one of the kids in the head with the ball, on purpose of course. He was a lousy player.

"You did it now, Mello!" He warned, rubbing his head.

I laughed mockingly and backed up as the rival team got the ball.

The game ended shortly after with my team winning. It was nearing dinner time, the sky beginning to darken. We ran inside with me slacking behind. I had one hand buried in the kid's, whom I had hit, hair, dragging him along with me. He was trying to escape, but I kept my grip.

Roger exited his office, his expression sad. He went over to me and pried my fingers off the kid's head.

"Mello, come into my office." He said, turning back to his door.

"Hm?" I furrowed my brow. Was I in trouble for something? He didn't even chastise me for yanking on the kid's hair.

Near was already in there, sitting on the floor with that blasted puzzle. I had tried to solve it, but found I didn't have the patience nor the dexterity for it. Cade was there as well, oddly enough. She was ranked fourth: not even a top successor.

"What is it, Roger?" I asked, looking at the old man.

I had never seen Roger look so sad before. It made me nervous and part of me knew what he was going to say. I just hoped my intuition was incorrect.

"L is dead." I couldn't hold back the startled gasp, the surprise making my muscles tense.

"What's that? What did you say, Roger?" I approached the man. "Did Kira kill him? Come on, Roger, you've got to tell me!"

Roger looked at me for a moment before dropping his gaze. "Yes, it would seem so."

The raw surprise of discovering my idol was dead dimmed my awareness. I grabbed Roger by the collar of his shirt. "He promised me he was going to give Kira the death sentence and you're telling me he's dead?!"

"Mello!" Two voices exclaimed. There was a clatter behind me and I released Roger to turn to look at Near.

"If you can't win the game, if you can't solve the puzzle...then you're nothing but a loser." My younger rival murmured softly.

I flinched, personally feeling offended. If that was how Near truly felt, then what was he doing in the running in the first place? The running...

"So, between me and Near, who did he choose?" Internally, I knew the answer, but I was praying to God I was wrong.

"He didn't decide." I let out a little sigh of mild disbelief and took a step back. The world was tilting on its axis and I felt myself sliding.

What happens now? We're at a stalemate. "Near, Mello...why don't you two work together?" What the hell?

"Alright, sounds good to me." Near said automatically, not even looking up from his puzzle.

"It'll never work, Roger!" I declared, clenching my fists. Roger must really by senile if he even thought to suggest that. "You know Near and I don't get along. We've always competed against each other...always."

I could hear the wind blow sharply outside. I was a few feet away from the window, but I felt the chill all the way from over there. There isn't a point for me to stay here any longer. I need to get revenge. It's up to me and Near now, but I doubt that twit is going to leave any time soon. After all, he's still only twelve. Me, on the other hand...

"You know what? It's fine. Near should be the one to succeed L. He's not like me; he never gets emotional. He just uses his head like it's a game or a puzzle. As for me, I'm leaving this institution." I spun on my heel and walked toward the door. I passed Cade, who gaped at me with shock.

"Wait, Mello!" Roger yelled.

"Don't waste your breath. I'm almost fifteen; it's time I started living life my own way." I exited through the door and closed it quietly behind me.

I stormed down the halls, the orphanage eerily silent. I got to my room and stomped through. Matt sat up in alarm, watching me tear our room apart.

"Whoa, Mello, what are you doing?! Stop!" Matt threw his game to the side and tried to grab me, only to get jabbed in the side.

"L is dead. Matt, I'm leaving." I snarled, grabbing a duffel bag. I stuffed an armload of clothes in and zipped it up. I thought about taking some chocolate bars, but decided against it. It would be annoying to cart around the chocolate.

Thunder crashed outside and I spared a glance outside. It was raining. Great, now the weather matched my mood.

"What? Don't you think you should think about this? Like, for instance, where the hell you plan to go?"

"Los Angeles." I replied immediately, yanking on a pair of socks and my old sneakers. Honestly, I don't know where L.A. came to mind, but it worked. I think I just thought of the most far out place just to irk Matt.

"Wha-America?! Where are you going to get money to get a plane ticket?!" Matt grabbed my duffel bag.

I pulled it roughly back and grabbed my tan jacket. "My inheritance. I know the password to access it. I just need to find an ATM and take out some money."

I opened the door to see Cade standing there. She stared up at me with confusion. "Mello? What are you doing? I could hear you all the way down the-"

She saw my bag and glared at me. "You were serious?"

When the hell did I ever not be serious?! Honestly, if I became a joker, just call me Matt.

"Of course I was bloody serious! Move!" I pushed her out of my way and stomped down the hall.

She was running after me. "Mello, think about what you're doing! Don't let your emotions rule your decisions!" She reasoned.

I ignored her and got to the front door. I opened it and quickened my pace. There was no turning back once I got to that gate. A sudden weight thrown at my back caused me to misstep and I nearly fell face first. I turned around partially to look at Cade, her face buried in my back.

"Mello, please. I don't want to lose you and my brother in the same day." Well, that certainly made sense as to why she was there.

"...Cade, I need to do this. There's no point in me staying at the orphanage any longer. All my work; it's nothing now! Besides, I've given up my succession rights. I refuse to be L. I can't live there anymore." I pried her off me and grabbed her by the shoulders.

Her eyes were watery (or was that from the rain?) and she sniffled. I felt a little pang and pecked her on the lips, my face erupting in flame.

"I'm going to take down Kira, Cade. I'm going to get revenge. go back inside; you'll catch a cold." I turned my back on her and ran down the street, my sneakers slapping the wet pavement.

Looking back now, I thought I was in love with her. If I had been, though, it wouldn't have been so easy to leave her behind, to forget about her completely. She was only a crush.

I got to the airport, soaked to the bone and shivering. I found an ATM and discreetly hacked into it to get money. I went to the woman behind the counter. She eyed me suspiciously as I slammed some money down in front of her.

"One way ticket to Los Angeles." I ordered.

"Where are your parents, kid?" She asked.

I growled and repeated, "One way ticket to Los Angeles!"

With a sigh, she took the money and handed me a ticket. I snatched it from her and quickly went through securities. I flashed my fake passport and got on the plane. The cabin of the plane was warm and dry, buzzing with quiet chatter between the passengers. A stewardess handed me a blanket and pillow, which I took gratefully. I wrapped myself up in the blanket and looked out the window. The runway was illuminated, covering my face with green lights. I closed my eyes and felt a body sink into the seat beside me. I cracked open my right eye and saw a plump woman a few years older than me.

She looked at me, gave me a small smile, and turned her attention back to the book clutched in her hands. I didn't return the smile, closing my eye, and drifting off to sleep.


	9. Lost Angeles

Several hours later, I stumbled out of the airport and onto the busy streets of Los Angeles, fatigued and disheveled. The stagnant air felt heavy in my lungs and I grimaced slightly. I looked to the left, then the right. With a deep sigh, I turned right and followed the bustling crowd. I tried to find a hotel, some place I would be able to sleep, but all the hotels I found were too expensive.

"Damn city..." I grumbled to myself after exiting the fourth hotel I ventured into.

I was so tired and I needed a bath. I considered sleeping in an alleyway, away from prying eyes, but my pride as a successor to L turned its nose at the very idea. I was desperate, but not that desperate. My pride would run me ragged for all it cared, so long as it found a suitable place.

My stomach decided to add its two bits and I finally stopped to get food at a fast food restaurant. I had never had fast food before (Matt had relayed his experience of it to him, saying it was the greatest thing he ever had), so I uncertainly ordered a cheeseburger, some fries, and a soft drink. I took the food to an empty corner table and sat on the hard chair. The restaurant gave off an artificial sense of cleanliness, clean enough to pass a health inspection, but still dirty enough for bacteria to colonize.

I stared cautiously at the hamburger before picking it up and taking a bite. I nearly choked at how greasy it was, but forced myself to swallow. The burger slid unpleasantly down my throat and I sipped my soda. My stomach growled. It wanted more and I listened, eating quickly. I tried not to taste the burger, but took my time with the fries, finding them more easier to swallow. They weren't as heavy.

My stomach full, I exited the restaurant and tried to think of a plan. I was starting to wish I thought things through before I jumped on the plane. I didn't know anyone in America, let alone L.A., my funds were limited and it wasn't like I could get hired (wasn't there some law against hiring fifteen year olds here?). I absentmindedly thought about finding the mafia and nearly laughed the idea away before I thought more about it. I could be a vital asset and they could provide the funds I needed to take Kira down. I just needed to find them.

No one paid me any mind. To them, I was just a runaway; the police would take care of me. I continued my wandering, traipsing into a more dangerous section of the city. I noticed the absence of jaded, but harmless, people. In their place were tough looking men, eyeing me with raised eyebrows. My senses were on high alert, but I still nearly jumped out of my skin when a meaty hand clasped me on the shoulder.

"Hey, kid, aren't you a little lost? Shouldn't you be at home drinking your milk?" The man was burly with a thin mustache and a bald head. He was wearing a purple satin shirt and a white sports jacket and pants. His ratlike eyes were narrowed as he stared me down. He wasn't alone; several other men flanked him on either side, watching me like I was going to be their next meal.

Defiantly, I met his gaze. "I'm not lost. I'm looking for the mafia."

The man's expression turned bewildered and he let out a bark of laughter. "What's the mafia supposed to do with a runt like you? You're scrawny so you can't be part of the crew, you don't look that smart so you can't be an adviser. You're worthless."

My face burned with fury and I protested, sounding more like a whiny kid. "I'm smart! My IQ is 180! I could be a vital asset, just take me to the boss and let me talk to him! I'll convince him!"

"Forget it, kid. Go home." The man pushed me back and walked past me. The men with him sneered at me. My glare darkened.

My brain racked itself, trying to think of something useful to say. The mafia is a bunch of criminals, obviously. That makes Kira their enemy. Yes, that's it!

"I can help you take down Kira!" I called.

Mustache man, as I decided to call him, froze and turned around to gape at me. "You? What could you possibly-"

"Just give me a chance. I'm smart, I can think fast, and I'm never wrong. Listen, we both have a common enemy: Kira. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. You've heard that before, haven't you? I'm not your enemy, but I could be a vital ally. If it doesn't work out, you can kill me. I don't have anything to lose." I offered, clenching my fists at my sides.

Mustache man regarded me with a different expression. It almost resembled some semblance of respect. I took it as a good sign, my fists relaxing. One of the men, a nervous looking man with long dirty blond hair, whispered none too quietly, "You're not actually considering it, boss, are you?"

Mustache man glared at the man with visible disgust. "Shut up. Alright, kid. I'm open to new things, especially when it comes to getting rid of Kira. We've had to grow even further underground than before. Luckily for me, the police only know my name and not my face."

I felt a little smug and folded my arms across my chest. "So, we have a deal?"

Mustache held his hand out. I took it without trepidation and the two shook on it. I felt like I just agreed to something I'd regret later on, but I couldn't go back now. "Yeah, we got a deal. However, you are going to have to do something to prove yourself. If you complete your little task, we'll talk more about your role in our organization."

"What do you want me to do?" I wasn't too fond about the idea, but I had gotten this far. It was understandable they needed to initiate me. They couldn't just trust any person in joining their little family.

"A con who goes by the name of Smooth Jake Gravano has been robbing our warehouses, taking our drugs and guns. We don't know his real name and we don't know his location. We've set up traps for him, but he never falls for it. We can't find anyone who has connections to him. Hell, Kira can't even kill him." Mustache explained.

"I want you to find him, kill him, and bring back his head."

Let me ask you something: have you ever been ordered to kill someone? I'd hope most of you, if not all, answered no. It's an unpleasant thing to do, to snuff out someone's life. To hear those words directed at you, is an experience altogether. It felt like I was being plunged in icy water. I thought of C. Would I imagine her final moments when I killed this guy? I was so tempted to walk away, say I made a mistake.

My uneasiness must have shown on my face because Mustache added condescendingly, "Unless you don't have the stomach for it."

"I do! I'll do it. I'll bring his head to you within two days." I huffed, color returning to my face. How dare he underestimate me?!

Mustache smirked and tossed a pistol to me, which I clumsily caught. "Good. Our hideout is on Fifth Street. Don't go there until you've completed your task."

The men left, leaving me standing there staring at the gleaming gun in my hands. I had never held one before, never saw one since the night my parents died. Part of me was horribly fascinated by it, the other wanted me to drop it and forget about the whole thing.

No, I couldn't go back. I needed to defeat Near and take down Kira! I stowed the gun in my duffel bag, making sure the safety was on.

It was beginning to get dark and my feet were starting to hurt from all the walking. I still hadn't been able to find a cheap enough hotel and wandered into a park. I stared at an old looking bench and grimaced. I didn't want to sleep outside, not when it was so cold, but I saw I had little choice. I laid down on the bench and used my bag as a pillow. I shut my eyes. I could hear distant sirens and the sounds of cars rushing by. Drunken laughter and the stale scent of cigarettes. I groaned and squeezed my eyes tighter.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Alarmed, I sat up, pulling out the gun and aiming it at the woman standing in front of me.


	10. Sorority

The woman standing before me looked just as alarmed, staring at the pistol with wide eyes. "Easy. I was just walking by and saw you on the bench. I was concerned."

"Well I'm fine. Go away!" I spat, clutching the gun tightly with both hands. Maybe she wouldn't notice my hands shaking.

She was attractive with long blonde hair and golden eyes. She was wearing a business suit and black heels. Her eyes were soft as she stared at me, her red lips curved. She had a sharp chin and relatively angular features. Regardless of heels, she still was tall, at least several inches taller than my five four frame. She had her arms raised in surrender. I felt a wave of nostalgia when I looked at her, but couldn't recall a time where I had ever met her.

She, too, was staring at me with shock.

"Mihael?" My eyes narrowed and I stood up, shoving the gun into her chest. I couldn't understand how she knew my name when I knew no one from America.

"How do you know that name?!" I demanded.

She winced from the pressure I was applying to her sternum, but otherwise, her gaze didn't waver from my face.

"I wouldn't expect you to remember me; I left when you couldn't have been older than two- no, maybe more like one. I'm your sister, Halle."

I gaped at her, my grip on the gun slacking. I wasn't sure whether she said it for shock value to disarm me or if she was from Wammy's and knew of my name. Would Roger really send the dogs after me, though? I wasn't important. She looked earnest enough.

While I was thinking this, I took the time to scrutinize her appearance. We both had sharp, narrow eyes, even though the colors were different, and angular faces. We even had a similar build, a gift and a curse from our mother.

"You've grown so much, Mihi. What are you doing here? Where are Mother and Father? And, more importantly, why do you have a gun?" She had gently taken the pistol from me, holding it daintily in her hands like it was something filthy.

It was strange to hear my former nickname and I swallowed around the lump that was beginning to grow in my throat. "Don't call me that. If you are who you say you are, I don't want to talk here. Is there somewhere we can go?"

Halle nodded, seemingly indifferent to my curt tone, and stuffed my gun into her pocket, ignoring my protest. "We can go back to my apartment and talk there."

I grabbed my bag and trailed behind her as I followed her out of the park. I eyed her back suspiciously, more specifically her hand. I knew I wouldn't be able to dodge a bullet, but I could at least expect it.

She either felt my gaze boring holes into her back, or thought in a way similar to my own, because she purposely kept her hand a few centimeters away from her side.

I followed her into a nice looking building where a doorman was waiting. The plump man looked at me peculiarly.

"Good evening, Mrs. Bullook. A, er, guest?" I scowled at the doorman.

"Yes, a special guest. Come along, Mihael." I winced at the sound of my real name again, stuck my tongue out at the doorman, and ran after Halle.

"Stop saying my name." I hissed at her once we were inside the elevator, crossing my arms.

"Why? It's your name."

I rolled my eyes and glared at the elevator doors. Did she not know how dangerous names were now? "I'll tell you when we're inside your apartment."

She shrugged and hummed tunelessly. I noticed something then. I said nonchalantly, "'Bullook?' What happened to your last name? What was it again?"

I was testing her. Halle knew I was. Her cheeks turned a light pink. "Keehl. I got married."

I rose an eyebrow. I found the idea of having a brother-in-law weird and wrinkled my nose at the very thought. "Is he home?"

"He shouldn't be back for another hour or so. Don't worry; we'll be alone to talk." She replied.

The elevator doors opened and we walked side by side down the hall. I nearly bumped into her when she suddenly stopped at the door going through her purse to pull out her house key. I took the time to observe the exits in case I had to make a quick escape. The closest one was roughly thirty feet down the hall on my right. I looked at the apartment number. 590. Easy enough to remember.

"Please come in." She opened the door and held it open for me.

The apartment was nice enough, smelling of Christmas cookies and pine needles. There was a large Christmas tree in front of the windows, its multicolor lights illuminating the otherwise dark room. Halle went over to a switch and flicked it on. The room was immaculate and I shuffled uncomfortably in my beat up sneakers. I felt filthy and rubbed my arm self-consciously.

"Before we talk, you look like you could use a bath." She said noticing me itch my skin.

I nodded gratefully and she indicated to the closed door off to my left. Grabbing my bag, I went over and opened the door, stepped in, and closed it behind me. I turned the light on and nearly grinned when I saw the shower.

"My quest for a shower: complete!" I cheered quietly to myself as I stripped my grimy clothes off and turned the knob.

I stood under the stream of hot water, shuddering with delight. I felt the last couple days' dirt slide off me and down the drain. I ruffled up my hair and looked at the shelves. I looked at Halle's shampoo and soap with distaste before grabbing her husband's body wash and sniffing it warily. It smelled like expensive cologne; not my ideal scent, but it would do. Hesitantly, I poured a quarter size amount into my palm and washed myself. I grabbed the shampoo and ran my hands through my hair before standing under the water and rinsing myself off.

I took a twenty minute shower. I was always partial to long showers, though I tried countless times to shorten them after I read a supposed psychological fact. It said people who took long showers tended to be lonely. I don't know how they figure. I'm not lonely; I just like the hot water.  
I turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around my waist while I searched my bag for a pair of clean clothes. I pulled out my favorite pair of black sweatpants and a long sleeved black shirt and boxers. I quickly dried himself and got dressed, lazily brushing my hair with my fingers.

I exited the bathroom and smelled beef stew. My mouth watered and I went into the kitchen, clutching my bag. Halle had just finished setting the table and placed two bowls of the steaming stew across from each other. She looked up and smiled.

"You look much better. I hope you're hungry." She gestured to the stew.

I nodded and sat down, taking a hungry bite. My eyes watered from the hot broth and I swallowed hastily. Halle slid a glass of water over to me and I guzzled it thirstily.

"Alright, why don't you-"

"Hold up," I interrupted, "I'm going to ask the questions first, 'sister.'"

Looking mildly surprised, Halle nodded and waited expectantly. I ate another spoonful of the stew before continuing.

"If you are my sister, what are our parent's names, where did they live, and when is my birthday? For that matter, when is your birthday?"

"Anja and Dmitri Keehl, Saint Petersburg, the thirteenth of December, 1992. My birthday is February, 18, 1983." She answered automatically.

The sibling thing was beginning to look more realistic to me, but my guard remained up. She could have looked into my file if she was one of Roger's. I wasn't willing to trust her quite yet. "Where were you? You're only nine years older than me; you weren't old enough to live on your own. So...?"

"I had gotten into a disagreement with our parents. I don't recall what it had been, but at the time it had been an exponential fight and our grandparents took me in. I was around eleven or twelve at the time and we moved to California. I've remained in the United States since, I trained to be a CIA Agent, which I am now, and I met my husband. I lost contact with our parents the moment I left the house. My only regret was I didn't see you grow up." She explained, holding her mug of coffee in her hands.

I looked down at my own hands. I couldn't remember a time at all my parents mentioned a sister, or even acted like they had an estranged daughter, but I remembered a fuzzy silhouette of a girl holding me. I never thought much about it when Iwas younger, but it certainly made sense to me now.

"I understand. You can ask your questions now." I straightened up, pushing my empty bowl away from me.

Halle crossed her legs. "Mihi-"

"Mello. I go by Mello now." I cut her off. How I hated the sound of that name!

She sighed and started over. "Mello, what happened to our parents?"

"Dead. Anja was having an affair with another man and Dmitri found out. He shot her and killed himself. Right in front of me." I added the last part bitterly.

"What?" She gasped, looking horrified.

"Of course, Russia doesn't know that. I wouldn't talk about what happened so they jumped to their own conclusions. Last I checked, it was a robbery gone wrong. Idiot reporters; nothing had been stolen. I was then put in a hospital, strapped to a bed, and ignored for...huh, you know, I don't know how long I was there. Months, but not more than a year. Anyway, an old man came and took me to England. I went to an orphanage there called 'Wammy's House.' There, I went by the alias of Mello."

"If you are supposed to be in England, why are you here?" She asked, leery.

"I, too, had a disagreement with my caretaker and ran away. He can't make me come back either; I am of the age most Wammy kids leave. It isn't a typical orphanage, you see; it's for highly gifted children.

That's all I can tell you about it, though." I fidgeted with my sleeve and looked at the clock. It was nearing eleven.

"I have a final question. Why did you have that gun, Mi-Mello?"

I smirked coyly. "Are you asking as a sister or as an agent?"

She returned my smirk. "Both."

"Safety." I lied.

I could tell she didn't believe me, but she didn't push the matter. Instead, she stood up and went into the living room. I followed her curiously and watched as she grabbed a blanket and pillow.

"You'll stay here. I wish I had a guest room, but Dan and I use the spare room as an office. Get some rest; we'll talk more in the morning."

She reached over and dared to ruffle up my hair. I pretended to not like it and sat on the couch, fixing his hair. She murmured a good night, which I ignored, and turned the light off in the living room. I curled up under the blanket and decided the couch was comfier than the bench he had been on just an hour earlier. But, only just.


	11. Hunt

I sat up, bleary eyed, when I felt someone sit on my legs. I weakly grumbled out a protest and shot a half hearted glare at Halle, who was channel surfing and paying me no mind.

"Do you mind?" I complained, scratching my head. What time was it?

"No, I don't, but could you please move your legs? They're kind of uncomfortable."

My glare hardened as I yanked my legs out from underneath her. "Rude awakening."

"It's nearly ten, be grateful I didn't wake you up at seven. You certainly startled Dan. I came out a few minutes after you fell asleep and saw him aiming his gun at you. I explained to him who you are and why you're crashing on our couch." She finally settled on the news, which was still spewing bullshit about Kira.

"I'm sure he was thrilled." I grumbled.

"He talked about enrolling you in school. It would certainly give you something to do while he and I are at work." I looked at her sharply.

"I've completed my school. The next step for me is college and I have no intention of applying anywhere. Besides, I've got things to do." I tossed the blanket to the ground and stood up, stretching.

My vertebrae cracked and I grunted in satisfaction, lowering my arms. Halle looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Oh? What is it you need to do?"

I obviously couldn't tell her about me attempting to join the mafia. Would it seem suspicious if I ask her about Smooth Jake? I guess it's worth a shot.

"Hey, have you ever heard of a criminal named Smooth Jake Gravano?" I asked conversationally.

"Yes...I have. Why?" She sounded suspicious.

I shrugged noncommittally. "Curiosity. I heard he's pretty big around L.A. and I wondered if the CIA knew about him."

"Of course we have, we've been hunting him down, but he always manages to get away." She sighed, taking a sip from her coffee.

I pretended not to feel disappointed as I thought of another plan. I shouldn't have told Mustache I'd be able to bring him his head within two days. As it stands I already have a little more than twenty four hours. And it's not like I can just go to their hideout and tell them I won't be able to meet my own deadline. Dammit, I bit off more than I could chew again!

Halle noticed my sullen expression and inquired, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I'm hungry, where's the food?" I demanded.

"Ordering little guy, isn't he?" An unfamiliar voice chuckled.

I stiffened my shoulders and turned around before relaxing them again.

Dan wasn't as imposing as his voice. He was lanky with awkward limbs and an even awkward gait; he walked as though something was weaving in between his feet with each step. He had black hair cropped short and bright green eyes. He was already dressed to go to work and now that I noticed it, so was Halle.

Halle stood up and smiled warmly at her husband. "Our mother spoiled him."

I shot her a dirty look, huffing slightly. Even if that was true, being an orphan would put a damper on that. Dan laughed again and held his hand out for me to take. "Name's Dan, nice to meet you."

I stared at it for a minute before taking it. "Mello."

Dan rose a puzzled eyebrow and looked at Halle. She shrugged and he looked back at me. "'Mellow.' That's an interesting name."

"Without the 'w.' My idiot of a friend doesn't know how to spell. It's contradictory to my actual personality...Supposed to be funny or something." I explained half-truthfully, pulling my hand back.

"Oh, it's just a nickname. What's your real name?"

I narrowed my eyes slightly. How I wanted to tell him off. Luckily, Halle intervened. "Uh, dear, we should get going; don't want to be late!"

She ushered him to the door and turned to look at me. "Since I know you aren't going to listen to me, just make sure you lock the door behind you when you go out. I left my key on the counter. Please be back by seven; I don't want you out after dark. Be good, Mello!"

The two left and I snorted, going through my bag for new clothes. "'Be good.' What does she know?! I'll do whatever the hell I want!"

I was still grumbling as I walked the streets, my pistol tucked in the back of my pants. I had to look in Halle's bedroom to find it, finally spotting it in a shoebox shoved in the back of her closet.

Now, if I was a conman, where would I hide? I'm sure he has bodyguards or something...The only place I can think of where a conman would hide is a bar. But, it's too early for a bar to be open and there's no possible way for me to get in unless I sneak in.

I sighed and kicked a can out of my way, watching it skitter into the street. A car ran it over. But, at that point, I wasn't looking at the can. I was gaping at the car.

It was a black stretch limo, its metal skin gleaming brightly in the late morning sun. One of the back doors on the limo had a symbol painted on it. A skull with a broken bottle of beer crashing into its cranium. People beside me were murmuring and I asked a man, "What's that symbol?"

"That's Smooth Jake's symbol. Bastard owns most of the stores here; conned the owners right out of their work. The rumor is his hideout is somewhere around here, but no one's been able to find it." The man replied, still watching the limo.

I grinned and started to chase after the limo. Luckily, the traffic was heavy and the limo was so ostentatious, it wasn't difficult to keep track of it. As I ran after it, I began to come up with a plan.

The limo pulled into a side road and stopped. I ran down the road and nearly bumped into a large man.

"Hey, watch it, kid!" The man swatted me away.

I ignored him and watched as a short, rotund man got out of the limo. He had gold rings on each of his fat fingers and a cigar clamped in his mouth. His graying hair was slicked back, not a hair out of place. He had a dopey looking face that I didn't doubt helped put people at ease (after all, everyone likes an idiot), but his gray eyes were keen, revealing the true intelligence hiding beneath the dumb expression.

Smooth Jake looked over at me. I hastily made my expression look starstruck.

"Cool limo, sir!" I exclaimed, smiling brightly.

Smooth Jake grinned. "Thanks, kid. Shouldn't you be in school?"

I shook my head, wrinkling my face with distaste. "Nah, school is for nerds! I want to be part of the mafia...o-or something! I'm not sure yet, but everyone I've tried to join just laughs me off. They think I'm useless."

"I know the feeling. You're still young, kid, they underestimate ya because of that. Not me, though. You seem trustworthy enough, how'd you like to be my errand boy for a bit? If I like ya enough, maybe I'll let you join my little gang." Smooth Jake offered.

I dropped my jaw. Smooth Jake took it was incredulity, but it was out of shock that the man was buying into this so readily. I "Really? Thank you! You won't regret it, sir, I promise you!"

"Eager: I like that. Alright, your first job: there's a brothel a couple blocks from here. It's time for me to collect their payment. Do that and come back here when you're done."

I nodded and saluted him. "You can count on me, Boss!"

I sprinted out of the street and slowed my pace as soon as my was out of sight. I was giddy; it was just too easy! I was beginning to love being on my own!

I located the brothel easy enough; it was painted neon pink. At first I didn't think it was open, but I tried the door anyway, mildly surprised when it opened. The air stank of strong perfume, making me gag. A woman was sitting behind a desk, painting her long nails. She looked up and quirked an eyebrow.

"You lost, sweetie?"

I shook my head, walking over to her. I cleared my throat and straightened up. "I'm here for Smooth Jake's payment."

She looked amused as she pulled out a manilla folder, sliding it over to me. "Smooth Jake's using rugrats to do his errands, huh?"

I scowled. "I'm almost fifteen!"

She laughed, irking me more. "Oh, yes, you're practically a man! Come back here when you're eighteen: we'll throw a party."

She winked at me and my face heated up. I turned on my heel and ran out of the building and back to Smooth Jake. I hoped I didn't smell like the perfume, letting a dismayed groan when it had, in fact, stuck to my clothes.

I was brought in by a man waiting for me outside. Smooth Jake was seated in a plush chair, sipping a glass of wine. I went over to him and handed him the folder. He opened it with a pocket knife, counted the money, and looked at me with a look of approval.

"Nice work, kid. Money's here and everything. Come on, why don't you sit with me?" Smooth Jake indicated the floor beside his chair.

Though I wasn't happy about the idea of sitting on the floor, I feigned eagerness and plopped myself on the floor. Like a dog, I thought sourly.

"Are you hungry? Would you like a sandwich?" I nodded as my stomach gave a little pang.

"Yes, please." Smooth Jake snapped his fingers and within moments, a peanut butter sandwich was handed to me.

I lifted it up, discreetly sniffed it, and took a bite. It was decent enough, I just hoped they hadn't poisoned it.

"What's your name, kid?"

I swallowed, the peanut butter sticking to the roof of my mouth like glue. "Mike."

"How old are you?" Smooth Jake set his wine glass down.

Should I lie? I can't pretend to be older than eighteen...No, it would be best to just tell the truth. It will make him trust me easier.

"I'm fifteen." Smooth Jake looked surprised.

"I would have thought you to be at least seventeen; you seem bright, mature." He simpered.

I didn't let myself be lulled into a sense of false security. My sharp mind knew I was being mocked, but I couldn't call Smooth Jake out on it. Instead, I allowed my cheeks to flush with pseudo pleasure.

"Thanks!"

Oh god, please don't let me become a bootlicker.

* * *

I smirked at my reflection. I had gotten a "raise" from Smooth Jake and decided to treat myself. It was my eighteenth birthday: I was a man and not the same punk kid who stumbled into L.A. four years ago. I was taller, thinner, wiser.

I was sporting leather pants and a vest that exposed my midriff, but I could care less. I looked damn good and the woman helping me knew it. I winked at her for good measure, my ego expanding when she all but swooned. I noticed a black jacket with a fur hood out of the corner of my eye and grabbed it.

"I'll take the whole set." I said, handing her a couple hundred.

She gaped at the money and nodded, ringing up my new apparel. I slipped my new jacket on and exited the store, hands buried in my pockets.

For the past four years I worked my way up until I was directly beside Smooth Jake. His gang was a mediocre version of the mafia, so it wasn't difficult. The challenge came with getting Smooth Jake to trust me. I finally succeeded in getting the man to trust me enough to be alone with me, now it was time for me to act.

I went to the brothel first, though. I had gotten used to the strong smell of perfume (though I always prayed it wouldn't stick to my clothes) and the unsavory business the building was associated with. Before, I looked down on the girls who worked there, but now I would go as far as to call them allies. They didn't like Smooth Jake any more than the mafia did. The only difference was they would never voice their opinion aloud.

The "Receptionist," whose name I never bothered to learn, was at her desk. She beamed at me when I entered.

"Well if it isn't our favorite customer. How are you, Melly?"

I scowled at the nickname and she laughed. "What a face! Ooh, I see you got some new clothes. Very hot. So, the usual?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm not here recreationally. I came to inform you that you won't have to worry about Smooth Jake much longer."

Receptionist tilted her head in confusion. "What do you...oh!" She leaned over the desk and hissed, "What are you saying? Just saying it aloud could get you killed!"

"I'm not too concerned." I waved my gloved hand at her. "I just thought you'd like to know. I'm not loyal to him anyway."

"Who are you loyal to then, Melly?"

I grinned and jabbed a thumb at myself. "Myself."

She rolled her eyes and I looked around. I could hear sultry chuckles from the closed doors and the occasional tinkle of glasses clinking together.

"Where's Willow?" I asked. She usually came down to say hello by now.

"I don't know. She hasn't shown up in a couple days." Receptionist shrugged.

I grunted, somewhat disappointed, and turned around. "Well, I have business to attend to. The next time I come back here, Smooth Jake will be dead."

"I'll hold you to that." She replied and I left the brothel.

It was seven, the insomniac side of L.A. beginning to rear its head. Girls dressed for raves walked together, giggling. College football stars laughed raucously, already staggering. I walked to the hideout, jaw set and determined. I had my pistol in the front of my pants, safety off. I needed to get Smooth Jake alone and I knew exactly how.

I entered the hideout, nodding my head at the man guarding the door. I took my hands out of my pockets and slouched my body a little, letting my eyes go half lidded. I mussed my hair up. I pushed the door open.

"Boss!" I slurred slightly as I stumbled into the main room, my jacket sliding off one shoulder.

Smooth Jake looked at me, clearly entertained by my "intoxication." "I see you got some new threads, Mike. Very nice. Did you have something to drink?"

I made my way over to him, tripping over my own feet and nearly face planting. That, regrettably, was an accident. The guys laughed.

"Th-there's this great bar down the street that gave me free shots c-cuz it's meh birthday! C'mon, y-you dun wanna make me 'sbrate meh birthday alones, now, do ya?" I hiccuped, smiling lackadaisically.

Personally, I was proud of my drunken imitation. And that was only from watching the others rather than actually experiencing it. I needed to remain top of my game.

I felt a little bit of my dignity die as the men in the room laughed at me, but I got the results I wanted. Smooth Jake got up, grinning. "Alright, lightweight. Let's go. Just you and me."

I slung an arm around Smooth Jake's shoulders, laughing. "Alri'! Drinkin' buddeh!"

I pulled my arm back and slumped ahead of Smooth Jake. We exited the hideout without trouble and I led him down an isolated alley. I made sure to take Smooth Jake far enough away his bodyguards wouldn't be able to come running the second they heard a gunshot, if they even heard it.

"Hey, Mike, do you have any idea where you're going? This doesn't look like the right direction." Smooth Jake commented, not sounding as uneasy as he should have.

I straightened up and pulled my gun out. I turned around and aimed it at Smooth Jake. The man actually looked shocked and held his arms out in surrender.

"Whoa, don't joke around like that. You could accident-"

"This isn't a joke, Jake." I cut him off, my slur gone. "From day one, my priority has been to kill you. For a conman, it was pretty fucking stupid of you to trust me, even if I was just a kid."

Smooth Jake's expression darkened slightly. "You know what's funny? At the time, I had the suspicion you were working under someone, but you proved yourself to me. I have to give you credit, Mike: you ain't no dummy. You're one hell of an actor; I actually thought you were drunk. I bet you'll make a great conman one day."

I placed my finger on the trigger and pulled it, flinching at the loud sound. I may have had the gun, but it was the first time I had ever fired it. Smooth Jake slumped to the ground, the bullet embedded into his brain. His eyes were frozen in shock, glaring accusingly up at me.

"Idiot. Like I'd really let myself get shitfaced around a bunch of fucks like you!" I grumbled, pulling out my hunting knife. A gift from Dan.

I had never killed before and my hands were shaking slightly. Not from fear, but excitement. It was an alarming feeling; to be excited over a kill. For the first time, I felt powerful and faintly wondered if my father had felt the same way when he killed my mother. The kill was quick and clean and I was pleased with it. That thought sobered me up. I needed to stop patting myself on the back for murdering someone. Now, I had to decapitate the corpse.

I grimaced and took off my jacket. I didn't want to sully it with blood. I knelt down on the ground beside Smooth Jake and nervously put the blade against the pale neck.

Oh, god, I don't think I can do this. He's staring at me, for god's sake! I gulped and just stared into his eyes. Christ, I'm looking into the eyes of a dead man! I averted my gaze and swallowed. I shut them and whispered, "Okay, on three. One...two...two and a half...three!...Three!"

I pushed down and yelled when my blade sank into flesh. I shuddered with disgust. It was an uncomfortable sensation.

"...This is going to take a while." I sighed.

* * *

I kicked open the door of the mafia hideout, startling the men inside. They stood up and drew their guns, but I paid them no mind. I walked purposefully over to Mustache, who was staring at me warily. I dropped the shopping bag I was carrying on the ground and reached in, yanking out Smooth Jake's crudely decapitated head. The men exclaimed in shock while I placed the head on the table in front of Mustache.

"Well, it took you four years, but you did it. Congrats, kid: you're in the mafia. I'm the boss: Dwhite Gordon. I promised you we would talk, however, you still need to prove yourself. I'll listen to any ideas you come up with, but I decide if we take that course of action."

I nodded agreeably. After all, who was to say I wouldn't betray them, too? "Fair enough. First, I think you should use an alias. That way Kira can't kill you or your men. With my plans, we're going to get his attention."

Dwhite rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea. I'll be Rod...Rod Ross. He was my best friend back in my younger days. What else?"

"The money. We might need to make big investments, but until then, we need to build it up as much as we can. I'll personally oversee any deliveries to other factions, if you'd like. I'll make sure we get everything for full price, or that nothing goes wrong." I offered.

Rod grunted his affirmation. "Yeah. For now, that will be your job. Once I think you're trustworthy enough, you'll move up, and then we can get more serious when it comes to dealing with Kira. By the way, what's your name, kid?"

"Mello. I've left you a number where you can contact me. I have other matters to attend to for now. Just call me when a delivery needs to be made." I replied, sweeping out of the room with a smug smirk on my face. The men, my men, let me pass with incoherent congratulations.

I got on my motorcycle, a sweet sixteen gift from Smooth Jake himself, and rode to the brothel. I parked in the little side alley beside the building and walked to the front, pushing the door open.

It was in full swing when I went in, men piling in and staggering out. I pushed past them and went to Receptionist, who was flirting with a couple of businessmen. She looked over their heads at me and excused herself.

"Well?" She prompted, looking at me anxiously.

I grinned down at her. "Dead. His men have most likely found his body. They won't try to locate me, though. By now, they must have figured I was working under someone. They wouldn't want a war on their hands if they fucked with the wrong group."

She smiled, relieved, then her expression turned serious. "Willow came here about fifteen minutes after you left."

My grin fell and I asked, "Did she say where she had been?"

Receptionist shook her head. "No, she didn't say. She only came to drop...something off and then she left. Didn't say a word at all, really, except to give your belonging back."

I rose an eyebrow. "'Belonging?' What belonging? I never left anything with her except my money." Did the bitch lift something from me?! I'd have to go to my apartment and check to see everything that was supposed to be there was there.

"Well, it's...oh, god, how am I supposed to even tell you this? I guess I can show you rather than tell you. But, try to keep calm, okay?"

"Rep, you're making me nervous. Just show or tell me whatever the hell she left behind for me." I shifted from foot to foot, my anxiety beginning to run high.

She pursed her lips and nodded, muttering "Stay here." She left the lobby and went into the back rooms.

I crossed my arms and tapped my foot to the beat of my heart. She returned a couple minutes later with a little girl, no older than four. My eyes widened and I shook my head.

"No. No way. no fucking way!" I cried staring at the girl like she was the devil.


	12. Rinzen

You know what's funny? I sort of knew this was the "belonging" Receptionist had been talking about. Willow liked me enough to not steal from me. Yet, I refused to acknowledge this possibility, even as it looked me in the eyes.

The little girl had straw colored blonde hair pulled up in two pigtails. She was wearing a denim jumper dress with a white long sleeved shirt underneath. She looked up at me with cutting blue eyes (my eyes), her head tilted cutely to the side.

"Who's he?" She asked Receptionist, clutching her hand tightly.

"This is your da-"

"Don't say it!" I hissed, my hand twitching as though I was going to pull my gun out. I wouldn't, of course. It was just a reflex. I tended to grab my gun the minute I got into a situation I didn't like.  
Receptionist glared at me and she opened her mouth, but I viciously interjected, "Willow slept with so many guys, there's no way she can assume I'm the f-f-"

I couldn't even say the word!

"Father? She was pretty certain; apparently Rinzen has a quirk that only you share: love of chocolate. Besides, you were her favorite."

I cringed when she said the "f-word" and snapped, "A lot of kids love chocolate! That doesn't mean anything!"

The little girl, Rinzen suddenly narrowed her eyes and pulled herself away from Receptionist. She stomped over to me and planted her hands on her hips. I was suddenly acutely aware I was in the same posture and hastily straightened up. She did the same. I narrowed my eyes at her. She squinted until she couldn't see.

"What the hell? Stop copying me, kid."

"Stop copying me, kid." She mimicked, sticking her tongue out at me. "You're a meanie! Mommy says I take after you. I'm a meanie, too. S-so, that's why I copy you! I wanna learn how to be a bigger meanie!"

Her words took me aback and I stopped narrowing my eyes. She looked up at me almost pleadingly and I felt my resolve start to melt. I glared at Receptionist.

"You're certain Willow isn't coming back?" I asked.

Receptionist nodded. "She took all her belongings. Why?"

She was alone, like me. I was a bit annoyed; how could Willow abandon her own flesh and blood? Did she honestly expect me to swoop in and take in the kid when I had no idea she even existed until now? Of course, Willow had always been pretty presumptuous. It was one of the reasons I liked her. I sighed and muttered, "I'm not going to like this. Kid, get your stuff. You're coming with me."

The little girl beamed and scampered off into one of the rooms. Receptionist gaped at me and I hardened my glare. "Don't look at me like that! Why you staring at me?"

"Well, Jesus, Mello, it couldn't be because you're taking Rinzen no questions asked." She answered sarcastically.

I exhaled loudly through my nose. "I'm not doing it because I want to. It's for her benefit. You're right. A brothel is no place for a little girl. Granted, I'm not much better, but at least I don't bring home a random girl every night. What did you say her name was again?"

"Rinzen."

Rinzen came back, a dog backpack strapped on. She ran over to my side, smiling happily. Receptionist knelt down and waved.

"Bye bye, sweetie. Be a good girl for your daddy, you hear?" She cooed.

Rinzen nodded and grabbed my gloved hand, much to my annoyance. "I will!"

I grunted and tugged her out. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

I stopped in front of my motorcycle and groaned. "Damn! How am I supposed to get you home on this?!"

While I fumed, she stared at the bike in awe. "Wow! That's your vroom vroom?!"

I ignored her and considered calling one of my men, but thought otherwise. That would just bring up unnecessary questions. With great reluctance, I pulled out my spare helmet and put it on her. It swallowed her head and she laughed.

"It's dark!" I rolled my eyes and put my own helmet on.

I lifted her onto the bike and settled behind her. "Hold on tightly, got it? I don't need you rolling off or something."

Rinzen nodded and placed her small hands over my own. I turned the bike on. The engine revved and I took off down the street, for once, driving under the speed limit.

Last year, I finally had enough money to move out of Hal's apartment. Thank blood God. I don't think I could deal with Dan and his "motivating speeches." Don't get me wrong; he was an alright guy, but I could only handle so much. I don't need to go to college, I don't need to be more "focused." I just took out a mediocre crime boss he and the other agents had been hunting down for decades in a matter of three years. If anything, _I_ should have been giving _him_ advice. Well, _would_ have. He died last year. Heart attack. Hal hasn't been the same since, really.

I parked my bike at my apartment complex and helped her get off the bike. She ran up the stairs quickly, one foot at a time, looking back at me like she was worried I would take off. I stopped in front of my apartment and unlocked the door. Rinzen ran in, looking around.

My apartment wasn't the cleanest, but it was still livable. I didn't have a spare bedroom, I remembered contritely, but I wasn't about to give up my bed.

"I don't have another bedroom. You're sleeping on the couch." I glanced at the clock. It was eight sharp.

"Daddy, I'm hungry."

I flinched and muttered, "Don't call me that. It's Mello. Until I find your real-Oh, god, who am I kidding? You're the spitting image of me. Look, I don't have any food except for chocolate."

Rinzen perked up at the mention of chocolate and a couple minutes later, she was happily munching away on one of my bars. I watched her, noticing she ate chocolate the same way I did.

"Do you have your birth certificate?" I asked.

She nodded and reached into her backpack, pulling out a piece of paper. I scanned over her birthday (October 13, 2009) and then at her father's name. Sure enough, my name, albeit fake, was there. Michael Kenneth. Willow really had been confident about my paternity.

"Daddy." I looked up at her.

"I'm tired. Will you tuck me in?" She was settling on the couch, hugging one of the pillows.

I grunted and stood up, going into my room to pull out a blanket. I went back into the living room and wrapped her up in it the way C would for me. She yawned and smiled.

"Nighty night, Daddy."

I still hated that word. But, I didn't bother correcting her as I mumbled my own goodnight.

The next morning, I woke up to a small body snuggled into my side. It startled me awake and I sat up. Rinzen was curled up, sleeping soundly. I grunted with annoyance and nudged her. She whined and opened her eyes, glaring at me.

"What do you think you're doing in here?" I asked her.

Her expression turned sheepish and she sat up, fiddling with her thumbs. "I-I got scared. I didn't wanna be a scaredy cat, but then I, uh, I, uh heard a scary noise and came in here. I'm sorry, daddy..."

I grumbled and got up. "Whatever, just don't make a habit out of it. I'm guessing you're hungry."

Rinzen nodded and stumbled after me, still dressed in yesterday's clothes.

"Well, you're in luck. I have cereal: Cocoa Puffs." I went to the cupboard and got two bowls and filled them with cereal.

She smiled happily. "I love Cocoa Puffs!"

I could have cared less, it was all I had after all, and poured milk into the bowls. I set them down at the table and got two spoons. Rinzen climbed into the seat, just barely able to see over the table, and clumsily dug in. I sat across from her, hastily eating. I needed to get to the hideout. Then, a thought struck me and I groaned.

The kid was inconveniencing me like nothing else! There was no way I couldn bring her to the hideout, but I couldn't leave her alone here. The brothel? No, not a place for a kid. Babysitter?

"What's wrong, daddy?" Rinzen inquired, her eyes wide with worry.

"Nothing. Look, I have to go to work today and you can't come with me. I need to get a babysitter for you." She pouted.

"I don't like babysitters. They treat me like a baby."

I rolled my eyes. "You've been out of diapers for how long? A week?"

She stuck her tongue out at me and crossed her arms in a huff. I stood up and went onto my laptop, looking up a random babysitting service's number. I dialed it.

"Yes, I know this is short notice, but I need a babysitter...uh, I think she's four, no, maybe three? I dunno. Between three and four...Yes, she's my d-daughter...Until eleven this evening? I'll leave money for food...1498 West Ave, apartment 209...Thank you." I hung up and looked at the kid.

"Alright, kid, I need to-"

"Rinzen." She interrupted, scowling at me.

I rose an eyebrow. "What?"

"My name is Rinzen. Not 'kid.'" She griped.

I grunted and grabbed her by the straps of her jumper. "Whatever. You, new clothes, now."

She whined, "But I don't know how to dress myself!"

I could feel my eye twitching. I was in over my head. Sure, I could face deadly criminals, but changing a little girl's clothes and I ran for the hills. I decided to wait until the babysitter arrived.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait long. She was a young woman a few years older than me, with a pleasant smile. I ushered her in and pulled my coat on. I noticed she was gaping at my outfit. I bet she thought I was a male escort.

"I'm running kinda late, so, here's what I'd like you to do: could you give her a bath and dress her? I, uh, I'm not comfortable with that. Money's on the counter, TV gets all the channels, don't touch my laptop, my cell number is on the kitchen counter, don't call unless it's an emergency. Okay, bye."

I whisked out of the room before the babysitter said anything and quickly went to work.

With me in their little family, I increased profit by one hundred percent in a matter of four months. I monitored Near constantly, discovering he had only just recently left Wammy's and was currently in the United States, striking up a bargain with the president. The SPK was born and I wanted part of it. I requested we put a rat in Near's faction. I explained the necessity and Rod acquiesced. He sent over one of his men, using the alias Ill Rat and he passed the interview and was now part of the SPK.

I was officially in the race to catch Kira. While I was years behind Near, I would gain up by cheating.


	13. Bargaining Chip 1

"MO Y320 here. Currently moving to verify whether the note through which you kill the person whose name you write on it is in the hands of the Japanese police or not." Rat checked in.

"Proceed." I assented, biting into my chocolate bar.

Things were going well. Near didn't suspect he had a leak in his midst and I was learning countless information on the case, like the killer notebook.

"It has been confirmed. The Japanese police have the notebook."

I smirked and looked at Rod, ordering. "Kidnap Kanichi Takimura. We'll get more information from him."

"Right away." Rat hung up and Rod began barking out commands to the others. I sat back and watched, waiting patiently for him.

Takimura, the director of the NPA arrived without a hitch, the men tying him to a chair down in their storage hold. I went downstairs with Rod, munching on a chocolate bar. I felt conscience-stricken for a moment at the sight of the middle aged man, head bowed in shame. I wasn't sure what the goons had done to get him to talk, and I didn't want to know, but whatever they did broke the man.

"Has he decided to say anything yet?" Rod asked.

The black man with dreads, a faceless pawn to me, replied, "He told us the police have begun to wimp out because of Kira. Right now the ones officially working for L are Soichiro Yagami, Kanzo Mogi, and Touta Matsuda. Isn't that right?"

Sweat from Takimura's forehead dripped onto the floor. "Y-yeah. There was also Ukita, but he was killed by Kira."

Dreads sneered. "Right. And as top cop you didn't know that this notebook even existed, or that you even had it?"

The killer notebook. I needed to get my hands on it, or rather them. To think, though, that such a power even existed! I was glad Near had mediocre protection around the file concerning that little detail. He never had been good with computers

"Hehehe, Japanese cops must be a joke!" Another added, cackling.

I walked over to Takimura, who kept his head bowed. "Of all the investigators on the Task Force, Deputy Director Yagami would be the highest ranking, right?"

"Y-yeah."

I smirked and bit off a piece of chocolate. I lifted my hand up to indicate the ceiling, the cross to the rosary I wore on my wrist exposed. "My theory is that there are two notebooks out there. One of them is in Kira's possession, the other is with the NPA. We are going to take both of them."

I brought my arm back down, the rosary hidden once again. Dreads and the other guy both grunted out a bemused, "Huh?"

Rod assured them, "Don't worry; as long as we do what Mello says, there will be no mistakes. It's been a year and a half since he joined us and in that entire time, he's never been wrong about anything."

That's right, minions, worship me! I withheld a cackle of amusement from how much faith they had in me.

"Yeah, but that's what's so weird." The guy who I finally remembered was nicknamed "Cheech" said, "If he was able to bring the head of a mafia boss even Kira couldn't kill, then why the hell would he need the notebook in the first place?"

Irrelevant thing, here, but you know what I hate? When someone talks about you like you're not even in the room. I can't stand it and these morons did it frequently enough to make me put it on my "pet peeve" list. Instead of voicing my opinion on that, though, I opted for: "It's not just the notebook I'm after. I wanna eliminate my competition."

I crumpled the aluminum wrapper of my chocolate bar in my fist. My eyes burned with determination as I proclaimed, "I will be the best! I don't care what it takes; I'll beat Near by any means necessary!"

Rod and the others were used to my "I will be the best" declarations and followed it wholeheartedly. Like me, their faction of the mafia suffered from an inferiority complex that was only solved by listening to me and taking Kira down. I would never outwardly admit I have an inferiority complex, though.

"Keep Takimura 'comfortable.' We will return him back to the NPA shortly." I ordered before returning back upstairs with Rod.

I perched myself on the edge of the couch, eating another chocolate bar. I was beginning to feel warm and had shed my jacket, tossing it carelessly over a chair nearby. Rod "entertained" two girls, flexing his muscles for them.

"Heh, hey, Mello, wanna share?" Rod asked, smirking licentiously at me.

I waved my hand dismissively. "Whores have gotten me into trouble in the past; I'd rather avoid them altogether."

Rod shrugged. "Suit yourself; more for me!"

* * *

It couldn't have been more than a couple hours when Dreads came running into the room, face ashen.

"Boss!" He exclaimed breathlessly.

Rod was entertaining a new girl, drinking tequila. I looked over at Dreads half interestedly, but by his expression I knew something had gone wrong.

"Shut up. Can't you see I'm busy?" Rod grumbled.

"I'm sorry, but Eddie and I were talking for a minute and it looks like Takimura hung himself with his tie somehow!"

I smiled to himself. It wasn't a problem, we'd just use it to our advantage.

"What's wrong with you?! What are we supposed to do with a dead hostage?!" Rod snarled, glaring venomously at Dreads.

"No, this'll be just fine." I interrupted, smile still playing on my lips.

I knew Rod had been acting angry mostly for my benefit, we were equals after all, but I had already come up with another plan. Kira was responsible for this. We knew he couldn't touch us since he didn't know our names or faces. That was why he went after Takimura instead. That meant Kira knew that the kidnapping had taken place. That should make things rather...interesting.

"So, what do we do now, Mello?" Rod queried.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to kidnap Soichiro Yagami's daughter, Sayu Yagami."

"Should we do the same thing we did with Takimura?" I shook my head.

"No, no, that won't work with Sayu. Her father is rarely, if ever, home and her mother is always home. Saying one of them is sick at the hospital won't work. I'm afraid stealth isn't going to be much of a concern. Just nab her when she's on her way home at night. Alone. We don't want to create a scene. Send Rat to carry out the kidnapping and Roy will pick her up in Japan." I thought aloud.

Rod nodded and looked at Roy. "You heard him: contact Rat and get your ass on the next plane to Japan."

Flustered, Roy stood up nodding quickly. "Y-yes, boss!"

I then ordered one of the other men, "Get the Task Force on the line. It's time to play our bargaining chip; I highly doubt Yagami knows his daughter has been kidnapped."

The man nodded and dialed the number. I snatched the phone away.

"This is Yagami." When I heard Yagami, I decided I liked him. He sounded like a respectable man.

"Look, about trading the Director in exchange for the notebook; the deal's been canceled. Takimura is dead." I said gruffly.

Yagami exclaimed aghastly, "You bastards! What did you do?!"

"It's only canceled regarding the Director. The new deal is this: the notebook for Sayu Yagami."

I heard Yagami gasp and continued, "Seeing as you're the Deputy Director of the Japanese police, it would be stupid to ask you to not to call the cops. But, you had better handle this on your own without backup! If I see the police start to make big movements within the next little while, I'll kill your daughter. That's right, just as easily as we killed the Director. I'll send you a photo of Takimura's corpse as proof we mean business. Take a good look. I'll contact you tomorrow."

I hung up. "Send the photo immediately."

The man nodded and did as he was asked. I leaned back on the sofa, smirking. Things were going just as planned.

I decided to look at the clock on the wall and grimaced when I saw how late it was. I stood up and threw my jacket back on.

"Call me only when Sayu has arrived. I have a previous engagement to attend to." I said.

"You got it." Rod replied.

I left and went home as quickly as I could. The traffic wasn't too bad that late at night and I got home in record time.

I half expected to find my apartment in shambles, but instead found it cleaner. The babysitter was still up, contently reading a book. She looked up and smiled at me when I walked in.

"How was she?" I asked as I hung my coat up.

"An angel. She helped me clean the apartment up, ate a healthy dinner, and took a bath and went to bed without a fuss. You've got quite the darling daughter, sir." She praised, standing up.

I nodded and pulled out my wallet, handing her a couple hundred. "Thanks for watching her. If you could watch her daily...?"

She gaped at the money before nodded vigorously. "Yes, of course!"

I smirked. "Great. Come back here tomorrow at eight."

She promised she would and left. I went to my bedroom and saw Rinzen curled up in my bed. I stood there, debating whether or not I wanted to wake her up and kick her back to the couch. I decided against it and begrudgingly crashed on my couch.


	14. Bargaining Chip 2

I woke up to my phone ringing loudly at two in the morning. I groaned and picked it up, hissing, "This better be fucking good."

"The girl's arrived." Rod said.

I sat up quickly. "I'll be there in ten."

I hastily threw on my clothes and rushed to the door, but then I paused. I can't leave Rinzen alone...can I? I wouldn't be back in the morning, I knew that much. I wrote a quick note to the babysitter, telling her where the spare key was, and apologized for leaving Rinzen alone, but something urgent came up at work and I didn't want to bother her.

My tiny conscience started to really get to me. I kept thinking "What if someone kidnapped Rinzen?" It bothered me I could relate so easily to Yagami. I was trying to remain detattached, but found it to be a little difficult. Especially when I saw Sayu, face stained with tears, mouth taped shut, and hands bound together. She was terrified and all I could think of was she was someone's daughter.

I shook my head and threw the thoughts into a further place in my mind and contacted Yagami.

"Your daughter has finally arrived. It's about time."

"What do you mean?" Yagami questioned dumbly.

I rolled my eyes. I was positive they were tracing this call. "You already have a pretty good idea of where we are, don't you? We'll make the exchange here; come to L.A. by yourself in two days and, of course, bring the notebook with you."

"I won't make the trade unless I know my daughter is safe! I want to talk to her right now!" Yagami protested.

I considered cracking a bad joke, but thought otherwise. Something told me Yagami wasn't in the mood to laugh. Besides, I wasn't good at telling jokes. Some found my sense of humor to be either lacking or macabre. "How 'bout this? I'll send you another photo. That should satisfy you."

I hung up and aimed the phone at Sayu. She looked up at me fearfully. I muttered darkly, "Smile," as I snapped her picture. I hit send and looked at Dreads. "Take her downstairs and lock her up."

Dreads nodded and threw her over his shoulder just as easily as he would a sack of potatoes. She squealed and I looked away as my conscience flared up again. I stood and grabbed my jacket. Rod looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I'll be back later." I muttered over my shoulder.

Outside, it was lightly drizzling. I didn't care as I walked down the street to the nearby church.

As I fell deeper into the impurity of my own sins, I found myself seeking out redemption. I had taken to wearing rosaries, confessing to priests, even praying when I felt I needed to atone. I hadn't grown up in a religious family (to my parents, their religion was money), but now that I was older, I found myself drawn to Catholicism. I even allowed myself to be baptized, even if I didn't feel any different. I felt like I needed to atone for the blood on my hands. I even had a rosary on my gun; a cruelly ironic thing.

The church I went to knew me by name. My real name. I still hated my name, but in church, the only place I felt safe, I didn't mind the priest blessing me to utter it.

I sat in a pew up front. I was one of the only people there so late (early?) in the day. I knelt down and clasped the rosary hanging around my neck tightly in my fist. I closed my eyes and began to pray.

_Please, God, give Ya-Soichiro a reason to forgive me for what I have done. Let Sayu return safely home with her father. Please, forgive me for my sins and for what I am about to do._

_Our father, who art in heaven..._

When I returned to the hideout, I felt slightly better. I found that I was hating myself a little less, feeling less like Mello, and more like Mihael.

* * *

The two days flew by and with them, so did my patience. I was disgusted with my "men." Several times I had chased them away from Sayu, worried they would harm her. They didn't understand why I didn't want them to be near her, then they came to their own conclusions. I wanted her all for myself. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I wasn't that immoral. However, I knew one of them had gotten to her when I noticed she had started to shut down.

"Forgive me." I murmured softly to her when I saw it. "You will be going home today. I'm truly sorry for having to put you through this. You're just a victim of circumstance and I apologize for using you like you were just a tool."

She didn't say anything, staring through me like I wasn't even there.

I returned upstairs and watched my plan commence. It was brilliant, if I didn't say so myself, and quietly monitored the progress. My pawn had made contact with Yagami at the airport, now all I had to do was wait until the two were in the air. That was when phase two would begin.

The pawn gave Yagami an ear piece and I spoke into it, callous voice in place, "Yagami, right now you're the only person who can hear my voice. Listen very carefully."

I opened a new bar of chocolate. "I'm the one who kidnapped your daughter, but don't get the wrong idea. I have no interest in your daughter's life one way or the other, or yours for that matter. There's only one thing I want and you know what that is: the notebook. Now all you have to do is follow my instructions. If you do that, no one has to die. As for the trade, I've prepared things so that the both of us will walk away satisfied. Play along, and there'll be no problems."

Silently, I prayed Yagami wouldn't do anything stupid. The remainder of the flight was silent, save for me munching on my chocolate bar, which I was sure Yagami could hear. The plane was heading toward the designated location and I continued with phase three.

"Listen well, Yagami. Before arriving at L.A., your plane's stopping at a certain spot. It's where your daughter's at. At that point you get off the plan and we carry out the exchange. As long as you don't go off and try something funny, I can guarantee both your lives. Same foes for the rest of the passengers- they'll just be a little late arriving at L.A.. No harm will come to them."

"There are two reasons why I can guarantee your life and that of your daughter's. The first is I don't wanna draw Kira's attention. We actually benefitted from Takimura's death, but it wasn't us who killed him. It was probably Kira. Now, if we were to kill you or your daughter, we'll become Kira's targets."

"The other reason is that I don't want to cause the Japanese police any more trouble. If on top of Takimura's corpse we add your's and our daughter's, we'll ruffle more than a few feathers. After all no matter how useless the Japanese police is, there is no greater motivation than revenge."

Yagami remained silent as I dictated to contact L and order a media blackout on the plane. One of my men confirmed the blackout and I sent another picture of Sayu to him.

The plane landed in the desert and Yagami got off. The plane lifted off, leaving him there.

"Yagami, we knew you were never acting alone. Call for a chopper. Let them know that the kidnappers say that if anything other than the chopper comes within a two mile radius of the spot, you're both dead."

Yagami's phone went off and I allowed him to answer it, but to put it to the ear he had my earphone in so I could listen in. "L" told him they were making his and Sayu's life priority, the chopper was coming, and it didn't matter they were handing the notebook over.

He's terribly reasonable, this new L, I thought. The real L would have come up with a sneaky counterattack. Or, let the girl die before the enemy got their hands on the notebook.

"The entrance." I said. "Y462, open the entrance."

A hidden door arose from the desert ground.

"You see the entrance, don't you, Yagami? Go inside."

Yagami did as he was told. I could feel my anticipation growing as I watched the video feed. My other pawn, whom we had labeled Y462, explained how the trade would go.

I gave my consent. "Alright, Y462, proceed."

Yagami hesitated and for one frightening moment, I thought he would reject the trade when Y462 told him he intended to write in the notebook. In the end, though, he finally relented and slipped the notebook through just enough Y462 could write. Precisely forty seconds later, Miller, one of the men in the room, collapsed. Dreads and another guy ran over, panicking. Rod and I remained seated, phlegmatic by what had just happened.

"Look, that's what you get when you steal and sell my goods behind my back. He was a worthless idiot; this is the first time he's been useful. Y462, the target is dead." Rod said coolly.

Y462 took the notebook and Yagami took his daughter. Y462 proceeded with phase four: placing the notebook in an awaiting missile before going to a waiting helicopter. The missile was launched. I finished my chocolate bar and watched its progress eagerly. Being in the mafia certainly has its benefits. Who would have thought we'd have the funds to buy a thirty million dollar piece of military equipment?

"Boss, I'm sure you were watching. I did everything you asked and it went just like we planned." Y462 said from the helicopter.

"Yeah, I saw that. Good job." Rod praised falsely.

Neylon and I smirked at each other. This was, personally, my second favorite part of his plan.

"Then this is going to wipe out all my past screw-ups, right?" Y462 asked hopefully.

"Oh, yeah; wiped out for sure." Rod replied ominously. He looked at Neylon and commanded, "Do it!"

Neylon typed on the laptop sitting in front of him that was connected to the helicopter. The helicopter short circuited and exploded.

There, that way any loose ends have been tied up. The missile has definitely kept the Task Force and Near from tracking the notebook. It should be arriving any moment.

Sure enough, a man came running in with the notebook, eyes bright with excitement. I thumbed through it briefly, before giving it to Neylon.

"You will be doing the writing." I said.

Neylon looked at it nervously. "W-why me?"

"Just do it." Rod snapped irately.

I passed him a page containing the members of the SPK. It had their names and pictures. Imagine my surprise when I saw my sister there. I knew she wanted Kira's head after he killed Dan, but I didn't think she'd stoop so low as to join that bigheaded twit.

"Kill all but three. The three I want alive are Halle Lidner, Anthony Rester, and Stephen Gevanni. If you kill any of them, I will personally kill you myself." I uttered threateningly.

Neylon nodded apprehensively, but did as he was asked. As he wrote, I smirked. It was the first time where I actually felt I beat Near. It was an exhilarating feeling, really. Like when you passed a test in a challenging subject.

Check, Near.


	15. Intimidation

I started thinking about calling Matt and asking him for his help. I had no doubt the redhead was searching for me, and while I was hesitant to bring him into this mess, I found himself missing his former roommate and best friend. At the time, though...

I was reading the rules of the notebook, finding a couple of them to be suspicious, but with no one who was a professional on the notebook, it only remained as that. A suspicion.

I contacted Yagami and attempted to drill him for information. He told me the new L was Touta Matsuda, who was useless. The other members of the Task Force told him what to say.

"I figured as much. This new L can't even be called incompetent, you know. Regardless, if I ever feel like killing 'L', I'll ask you for a picture of all the members." I had laughed and hung up.

I wouldn't actually kill them all...if they stayed out of my way. They were the least of my worries. The damn notebook-

"Boss, we've got the President on the line- it was easier than you'd think."

Ah, yeah. I forgot. I threatened the President. "Give it to me."

I snatched the phone out of Neylon's hand. "David Hoope, anyone else listening in on this conversation? 'Cuz if anyone else hears what I'm about to say right now, the whole worlds gonna go into one hell of a panic."

"Ye...Yes. The line's safe. Go ahead." The President sounded like a coward. Good; it'd make my job easier.

"You know that notebook of death...and also, that group put together to deal with Kira, the SPK? Well, of course you know! It was your doing after all. I imagine you know of the group who got the notebook from Mr. Yagami of the NPA? That was our doing. As hard as it might be to believe, you can use this notebook to control the people and have them kill, too. So, how about you tell me right now whom you'd like me to kill and how, and I'll treat'cha to it." I glared at the notebook, holding it similarly to L's way of holding things.

"Let me be more blunt. With this thing I can take control of the people who have their fingers on the nuclear button."

"N-nonsense! If you do that, you'll be starting World War III!" Hoope exclaimed.

"No kidding," I replied dryly, "so you've got no choice but to listen to us."

Heh, could you just imagine that? Me starting WWIII just over getting information and money? Extreme, yes, but it damn worked.

After a pause, Hoope murmured, "What do you want me to do?"

I grinned. "Cutting right to the chase! How very 'presidential' of you..." God, I need to work on my jokes. They're fucking painful to recount, they're so lame.

"You know, we don't have the slightest intention of making an enemy out of the United States. we're interested in reaching a...'mutually beneficial' agreement." I took a bite out of my chocolate bar.

"Mutually beneficial?" Hoope echoed.

"That's right. After all, you want this book for yourself, right? And before the rest of the world gets wind of its existence, no less."

"Don't...don't be ridiculous-"

"That's why you went ahead with the SPK, isn't it? But the notebook you were after is already ours. And the other one's Kira's. Surely, Kira's not the avatar of justice. He's not fit to make the world go 'round, now, is he, Mr. President? Tell ya what- we kill Kira, you get his notebook."

"And in exchange?"

"No more than your cooperation in getting Kira's notebook- and immunity. The American people will be as well off as before- heck, they might even come to get along all the better. Not bad, huh?"

"Our cooperation?"

Rod and the others were watching me as I spoke, inferring what was being said by my facial expression. When my smug look never wavered, they visibly relaxed.

"Yeah, first, we want you to give us all the info you have on the SPK, ad to keep us up to date on what they're up to. Then, we need funds, weapons, and access to satellite surveillance."

"I may have approved the SPK, but even I don't know-"

"I know." I interrupted. "I'm talking about giving us whatever you can get your presidential hands on without arousing suspicion. Don't have me believe you arrived at the oval office on your good looks alone. You ought to be competent enough to get us what we're asking."

"Even giving you support, I alone can't-"

God, how did this guy become president? He isn't a free thinker at all!

"No, you can't. But, say you pretended to put together at team to hunt as down as the 'terrorists' who killed Japan's NPA director. Not even the utmost secrecy would arouse suspicion then, would it? There's absolutely nothing to worry about. Except, of course, if you refuse- then you'll go down in history as the worst president there ever was. I guess you don't have much of a choice, now, do you?"

"N-no..."

"Good. Glad we could reach an agreement." I hung up and handed the phone back to Neylon.

"Let's see how far we can puppeteer our targets."

I was startled when the notebook wrenched itself out of my hands. I gasped and turned around to see that it had landed on Neylon's head.

"The, uh, the notebook just flew!" I stated incredulously.

Rod, whose attention had been taken away by the two girls sitting beside him, turned to look at me, somewhat surprised by my expression.

"Hell, it's a notebook that kills people. It wouldn't surprise me if it could fly, too."

Neylon screamed and fell out of his seat. I looked at him, eyes still wide. Neylon was pointing at nothing, crying, "Boss, the guy with the freaky costume; who is he? Who brought him here?!"

There was a pause and Neylon seemingly repeated, "A-a shinigami?" before cackling insanely.

He then stood up, holding the notebook. "He says if you touch the notebook you can see him! Please, everyone touch it! I swear I'm not crazy!"

Waving the notebook around like a madman wasn't exactly helping his case. I exchanged a bemused look with Rod who sighed. "Fine, whatever. C'mon guys, touch the notebook."

We all took turns laying our hands on the notebook. The others all broke out into screams except me. I gaped at the monster standing directly beside me. I felt neither fear nor happiness. If anything, I felt disgusted.

It was a god, an immortal creature beyond the comprehension of a human being. I couldn't help but wonder if God looked like a monstrosity as well, ignoring the fact my wonderment could be considered blasphemous.

The men pulled out their guns, firing at the shinigami. I remained seated, feeling the bullets whiz over and beside me only to pass harmlessly through the shinigami.

"Nice try," The shinigami spoke with a nasally voice, "you humans can't kill a shinigami."

The men sighed and Rod lowered his gun. "Jack's right; that ain't no human. That's a real live shinigami. So now what do we do?"

What an ugly creature. And yes, dear listener, all shinigami are ugly. Some more than others. I think it marked their sins of using the notebooks in their past lives. That's just my theory, though. Feel free to make your own.

I froze when I noticed the shinigami was looking at me. Or, more specifically, my chocolate bar. So, it does have a weakness. I suppose I can part with a chocolate bar in exchange for information.

"Shinigami, I'll give you my chocolate bar if you tell us more about the notebook's rules." I said.

The shinigami nodded. "Alright, but my name isn't 'shinigami.' It's Sidoh. By now, you guys probably know that if you write a person's name in it while picturing their face, they will die. You can specify time of death and manner of death, too. But, these two rules, the thirteen day one and the one about destroying the notebook, they aren't real. I've never seen or heard about those rules before."

I handed him my chocolate bar and pulled out another for myself.

The shinigami ate the chocolate in a manner similar to a bird using a beak. It groaned happily, "Yum, chocolate is so good!"

Rod leaned over the couch and exclaimed, "Hey, what about that stuff you told us; is it true?! 'If the person using the note fails to continuously write names of people to be killed within thirteen days of each other, then the user will die. If you make this note unusable by tearing it up or burning it, all the humans who have touched the note till then will die.' Are you saying those two rules are made up?"

Sidoh pulled the bar away momentarily to say, "Oh, yeah, those rules are definitely fake. My guess is some shinigami wrote those rules down as a joke before giving the notebook to a human."

I rested my arm on my right knee and tapped my chocolate bar thoughtfully against my teeth._ As for the thirteen day rule, we can test it using one of our people. But, the real question is this the notebook that had been used by Kira? And, if so, was he aware these two rules were false? If he did know, he could have used those rules to his advantage. In particular, the thirteen day rule would have allowed him to prove his innocence in only thirteen days._

_The shinigami can't go anywhere. He told us he haunts the notebook in our possession and may only take it if Neylon dies or gives up ownership. I might as well put him to use._

"Sidoh, go keep watch outside." Sidoh slowly looked away from his chocolate and stared at me. I glared at him. "It'll be very convenient for us that you can't be seen by humans. Go outside and keep watch, got it?"

Sidoh stared at me with an expression akin to fear and immediately floated off.

Rod chuckled. "That's Mello for you; tough enough to scare a god of death."

The other laughed while I stood and left to go home. I promised Rue I would be there for dinner.


	16. Escape

I have another question for you, listener. Have you ever felt like something bad was going to happen to you? You go through the motion of the day, looking over your shoulder, making sure you have your wallet. Then BAM! You slip or someone takes off with your wallet. You kick yourself for not listening to your instincts.

It started a couple weeks before the raid. President Hoope committed suicide. I have no clue if it was by his own power or the notebook's. That was an omen.

The day of the raid, I felt like something was wrong, but chose to ignore my instincts. I came across Neylon's dead body (death by drug overdose) and tried to dismiss it as a coincidence. My paranoia, though, was running high and I knew something bad was going to happen. So, I spent the day checking the explosives I had rigged around the hideout were still fully functional, and I observed my men more carefully to make sure they weren't acting stranger than usual. I even decided I would head home earlier than usual, telling the babysitter she could leave at midnight. Rinzen would be fast asleep by then and I could sneak in, no sweat.

However, when midnight struck, my hideout was filled with the dying screams of my men. Only Roy, Skiar, and I were remaining. There were small explosions as someone forced their way into the building. I bit into my chocolate and narrowed my eyes with anger.

_So, Kira is involved after all. I didn't think he'd go this far..._I looked at the laptop showing my surveillance cameras. Sidoh was sitting perfectly still. My plan was supposed to be perfect! _Damn! What the hell is Sidoh doing?!_

I blamed myself for putting my trust in a shinigami. I felt foolish for trusting a god. I stood up and sprinted out of the room, heading up the flight of stairs leading to the surveillance room. I looked to my left, trying to find the notebook, and noticed it underneath Rod.

"Roy, Skiar, the notebook is under Rod's body; bring it to the surveillance room upstairs!" I ordered.

Had it been under different circumstances, I doubted they would have listened to me, but my track record (until now) had been flawless. They assumed I had a plan to get them all out, when I only intended to save my own skin.

I got to the surveillance room without running into any cops and searched quickly through the drawers, pulling out the demolition trigger.

I heard gunshots and grit my teeth. _They probably have the notebook now...I'm the last one. It can't be helped..._Someone entered the room, their flashlight cutting through the thick darkness. I didn't dare move. I knew they were looking for me, knew Near had told them about me. The person was about to leave the room. I pushed the first button, the whole building shaking with it.

"Don't move," I threatened, "I've already blown up the two entrances to this place. This will be your only warning. The next explosion will take out the entire building, as well as all your men inside. So you'd better do as I say."

I turned the screens on, bathing the room with its ethereal glow. None other than Yagami stood before me. I chuckled softly.

"Yagami again, huh? Maybe I should have killed you when I had the chance. History repeats itself! But, I never dreamed in a million years that I'd be bargaining for the notebook with you again."

_Bargaining? Please, he fucking has it in his hand!_ Yagami didn't say anything, his mouth moving as he silently read something above my head. It, oddly enough, reminded me of B and his thousand yard stare.

"Your real name; it's Mihael Keehl."

My eyes widened. Oh, shit. Why?! Was Snydar compelled to tell them by Kira? Was he being controlled all along...? I had a flash of Beyond Birthday again, that time he had said my real name and told me how long I would have to live. I didn't understand that power then.

"It's over, Mello. It's time to turn yourself in. If you give up, I won't kill you. You have my word on that." Yagami said sternly.

I laughed mirthlessly. "That won't work on me! If you try to write down my name, I'll press the button."

_This is bad! No doubt, someone is listening in. The only thing I have left is only Yagami knows what I look like._

"Do it if you want." I gaped at him.

"I don't hole my life dear anymore. If I sacrifice my life and you die, then that's my heart's desire."

He was completely serious. I had gotten good at reading facial expressions and his held no self-preservation. I had another card in my hands, though.

"Don't play cool, Yagami. If you ware fine with that, how about our men? Can you sacrifice all of them?"

"They are my men. They have prepared themselves for that."

That doesn't mean they want to die with you! I wanted to scream.

"You know how this works. I write your name and you will die. Let go of that trigger and put your hands in the air." Yagami opened the notebook and placed a pen on its page.

_Okay, options, options. Give myself up and still die. That clearly isn't an option. Resist? He'd still write-No. He wouldn't. I can tell; he's sweating. Even though I've hurt him, he still can't find it in him to write my name down. There is one option, but I..._

I looked down, spotting the revolver in the drawer and sighed deeply. I started to lower my arm down. "Yagami-"

Yagami flinched and scribbled on the notebook. "Don't move!" I froze. "I've already written your first name and it will only take me a moment to write your surname!"

He's leaving me with no choice. Forgive me, God; I am about to stain my hands once more. "I'm truly sorry. For what it's worth, I give you my word that I never wanted to kill you."

I bowed his head and closed my eyes._ Forgive me, Lord, and allow me to rest in You, For You are my Shield, my Redeemer and my Light and in You do I trust..._

I looked up at the older man malevolently. "But tell me, Yagami; you've never killed someone before, have you?"

One of the men, Jose, had been playing dead in a corner of the room. He was behind Yagami, unseen and ignored by him. He rolled and grabbed the machine gun lying nearby and opened fire. Most of the bullets bounced harmlessly off Yagami's bulletproof vest, but one hit its mark in his neck. Yagami groaned and fell to the floor.

I yelled, "Jose, the notebook!"

Jose sprung to his feet and tried to pry the notebook from Yagami. I rushed over and put a gas mask over my face.

"This guy, he won't let go of the thing! Son of a...!" Jose kicked Yagami.

I looked over at the doorway and saw two more of the Task Force members.

"Deputy Director!" One yelled and shot Jose.

I stood there, still clutching the trigger. I stared at them as they all aimed their guns at me.

"It's all over, Mello! Put your hands up and surrender!" Another commanded.

I looked at Yagami's curled up form before looking at the Task Force. I regarded the trigger briefly before pushing it.

The building exploded in fiery inferno, the flames rushing into the surveillance room. The gas mask shattered on the left side. My body burned, my lungs ached. I struggled out of the debris, heaving off a piece of molten metal off my torso. Oh, god, how it _burned!_ I fell to my hands and knees, dry heaving. The smoke was heavy in my lungs and I coughed violently. I kept my left eye closed and felt the other water up. I heard the Task Force call weakly for each other. I couldn't stay here.

I forced myself to stand, dragging my burnt body toward where I had hidden my motorcycle. I slung myself on it, starting it up. I didn't bother with my helmet and all but sobbed when the cold air touched my wounds.

Now, I'm not so stupid as to not have a safe room to go to when I've rigged a building with explosives. The surveillance room was that, but the door was open. Just keep that in mind. It isn't like I like injuring myself. I'm not masochistic.

I staggered up the stairs and into my apartment. I collapsed onto my side and pulled out my phone, dialing the only number I had in my phone.

"Who is this?"

"1-1498 West Ave. Third floor, apartment 209. Ri-" My body convulsed, my phone slipping out of my hand. I saw a small figure make her way toward me, screaming. I wanted quiet and lamely shushed her before I faded out.


	17. Reunion

I came to and noticed I was in an achromatic room. I had bandages wrapped around my torso and had sweatpants on. I felt like I was on fire and sat up as though I had been electrocuted. I was frightened, this room unfamiliar to me. Was I in police custody? I ripped the bandages off, the wounds feeling wet and sticking painfully to the bloody gauze, and stood up. I struggled out of the room, leaning against the wall.

"Mello!" I snapped my head up, lips curled off my teeth in a snarl that softened when I saw Halle. It came back, though, when I realized what seeing her meant.

She rushed over to me, concern in her eyes. "Mello, you should be resting."

"I'm at the fucking twit's headquarters?" I spat, teetering. "I'm getting out of here. Rinzen! Where is she?!"

"She's sleeping in one of the spare rooms. Mello, please, you'll die if you don't-" Halle tried to soothe me.

I shook my head and immediately wished I hadn't when the room began to spin. "Watch her. Please. I- I can't take her...not right now."

Halle pursed her lips, but reluctantly nodded. "Alright."

I nodded back and sprinted past her, turning down the various hallways until I barreled into someone. The momentum knocked both of us off our feet and I landed on something small and soft.

"What the-where the hell am I?!" I demanded, disgusted when I saw I was on Near.

Near had an incredulous look on his face before it fell into that superior emotionless mask. "I see Mello is feeling better."

I growled and got off Near, running in the opposite direction Near had been walking in.

After so many twists and turns, I managed to get outside. I was in New York, I realized. That was good. We had a safe-house out here I could go to. I looked at the street signs and saw I wasn't too far from it. I stayed in the shadows, using the buildings to lean against. People would stare at me, aghast, but I ignored them. The building was coming into sight.

I slid inside and immediately collapsed. I could feel my awareness fading again.

* * *

I was beginning to grow sick of fainting in one place and waking in another. This time, I woke up in a piece-of-shit apartment. Cereal boxes and empty pizza boxes were scattered all over the place. The couch I had been placed on had a questionable stain on it.

"Now where the fuck am I?" I groaned, sitting up. I winced and wrapped an arm around my bare torso. The bandages were fresh.

"You're in my secret sanctum." My head snapped to the left to the redhead I hadn't noticed. He was curled up in an armchair perpendicular to where I was laying, his face buried in his DS.

He was matching just as well as he had back when we were kids, with his stupid goggles hiding his eyes. Sometimes I regretted giving him those goggles, I liked Matt's dark blue eyes, warmer than my own, but then I would remind myself how happy Matt had been when I gave him the goggles.

I was somewhat enthusiastic of seeing my old friend until the redhead opened his mouth. See, Matt has that way about him where what he says could either amuse or piss you off. Personally, I liked him better when he kept that damn mouth of his shut.

"So, why'd you try to deep-fry yourself?" Matt deadpanned.

I growled, self consciously touching my aching face. "Don't be stupid! You think I did this on purpose?!"

"Well, Mels, I'm not sure what to think. I happened to stumble across your half dead body in my sanctum, burnt to hell." Matt leaned forward on his elbows, DS abandoned.

I snarled, reaching over to cuff him over the back of his head. "I had no choice! It was either blow up or be arrested! And this is supposed to be a mafia hideout!"

Matt nodded flatly. "I know. Heard the L.A. mafia was wiped out. So, look; free rent! Besides, if I were you, I'd be a little more grateful to the guy who's helping you."

I sighed. He was right, of course. "Thanks, Matt."

"Don't thank me yet. I'll punch you when you're feeling up to it. You know; for leaving me an'all. So, what happened?" He was smiling a little now.

"...The Kira case." Matt's smile dropped. His expression turned apathetic. "And what about it?"

"I got into contact with the L.A. Mafia. My plan is to use them to find Kira before Near does. Actually, running into you is pretty convenient; I was about to contact you and ask for your help."

Matt placed a cigarette between his lips, but didn't bother lighting it. "Lemme guess; hacking? Not interested. Why should I help the ass who left me behind?"

Ah, I was afraid he'd be mad at me for that. Instead of apologizing, though, I decided to go with the guilt trip. My eyes narrowed. "Matt, you're my best friend. When we first met, we made a pact to stick with each other so we wouldn't be alone. Or have you forgotten that?"

Matt gave me a look of disbelief, as though he couldn't believe I was going for the low blow. Yeah, that's right, Matt, I'm going to play that card. He sighed. "No, I haven't forgotten."

"Then why are you so hesitant? I know you're pissed at me for leaving you behind, but you know why I did it! I needed to make a place for us first before you joined me." I said, sounding softer.

Matt grunted. "...Fine, but the minute things get bad, I'm going to be the one shooting you in the fucking head."

I grinned and we clasped our hands together, making the agreement official. "Back at ya."

We released each other's hands and leaned back. I rubbed my throbbing side.

"Changing topic, what have you been up to the last few years?" I inquired, genuinely wanting to know.

Matt shrugged. "Left Wammy's a couple years ago to find your sorry ass. Stole this sweet ride; a 1970 Chevelle. You know how long I've wanted one of those. Been hanging around L.A. for the past year or so. I finally got a place to stay. How about you, besides taking over the crime underworld?"

I looked at him sheepishly and Matt studied me with some interest. "That bad, man?"

"Depends on how you like children." I finally muttered. Matt's eyes widened and he spat his cigarette out.

"What?! You have a-" I reached over and clasped Matt's mouth tightly.

"Not so loud!" I hissed, blue eyes flashing. Call me paranoid, but I felt like we weren't safe.

Matt grimaced and nodded his head. I pulled my hand back and Matt bombarded me with quiet questions.

"With who? Boy or girl? What's his/her name? What are you going to do with him/her? When can I meet him/her? How old? Where's ma? Can I be the godfather?"

I shot him an annoyed expression. "Some whore, girl, Rinzen, keeping her, never, four, I dunno, no."

Matt pouted. "Aw, but I wanna meet Mello Jr.! You know I've always wanted to be a godfather!"

"Matt, you aren't even religious." I pointed out exasperatedly.

He shrugged. "So? I wanna be a 'god' something. It sounds neat. Anyway, how'd you end up with-"

"I made a mistake. Now I have to pay for it for the rest of my life. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like my kid, but I'm not meant to be a father. I'm considering taking her to Wammy's once this whole thing is over with." I sighed, rubbing my temples.

Matt pursed his mouth sympathetically. "Will you be able to do it?"

"I dunno, Matt."

I heard Matt's phone vibrate and watched him take it out.

"Yeah?"

He looked at me, his expression contrite, and grunted. "Sure. Be there in..." He calculated the time, "fifteen minutes."

I looked at him curiously, watching him stand up. "I gotta go."

"Who was that?"

Matt seemed to pause for a moment, making me suspicious."Work. I'm working at a nearby GameStop."

I rolled my eyes. He was a lousy liar. I didn't call him out on it, though. He grabbed his wallet and muttered, "Be back soon. Food's in the fridge, or you can have the cereal lying around."

He left with a distracted look on his face. I furrowed my brow before turning on the TV. He wanted to tell me, he would.


	18. Rinzen's Day

We're almost caught up to the present. It's time I told you about that day. The day I died. First, however, I must tell you about the day before my death.

I was up early like always. I never could sleep in, preferring to get up at six every morning without fail. Matt was snoring from the other bedroom, his room bathed in a blue light from the television he had hooked up. I grabbed one of my chocolate bars, taking a bite out of it and sat on the couch. I reached over the coffee table to grab my laptop, placing it on my lap. The room was silent sans the swift clicking of my fingers as I tapped on the keyboard. A siren shrieked in the distance. My cell phone rang beside me, breaking the meticulous typing. I answered it and listened to Halle. As she spoke, my body slowly sagged with each of her words.

"I understand...if I don't do it..." my hung up and rested my elbows on my knees.

I don't remember what I was thinking about after hearing the news from Hal. I remember coming up with a plan and calculating Rinzen's future. The rest of it is just a blur.

After a minute, I straightened up, my face devoid of emotion. I placed my half eaten chocolate bar on the table. The call had made me lose my appetite. I wouldn't act immediately; maybe in the next twenty-four hours. First, though...

I grabbed Matt's laptop and set it on the coffee table. I started a recording of myself. I lounged in the chair, one leg thrown over the arm. I tried to come off as arrogant and confident, but I had a feeling I probably looked just how I felt.

"Rinzen, if you are watching this, then I am dead and you are hopefully older than you are now. This mission was to be my last to help Near get the evidence to prove Mikami as X-Kira and finally end this damn case. I knew Takada had a piece of the notebook and anticipated her writing my name down in order to save herself."

"Matt is supposed to survive. My plan does not include, or require, for him to die. He will, if he listens to me, raise you."

That familiar lump in my throat began to form and I swallowed thickly.

"I know you may never forgive me for leaving you like this, especially since you had just came into my care, but this has to be done. I don't want you to grow up in a world where there is Kira. But, never mind that now. I'm sure you're wondering why I decided this." I dropped my casual pose and I straightened up, my body tense.

"All my life, I was always second best to Near. No matter what I did, he was always one point ahead! I was never good enough, no matter how much I studied or ran my body into the ground. Once, when I was young, I saw a spider's web in my window. A moth got snared in it and I watched the spider killed it. That got me thinking and I decided I would find something to die for. Near is too cowardly to die for something, so I knew death would be something I could beat that damned bastard at. That was the plan, but you came. I didn't know you existed until four years after your birth. I was preparing myself for death, but here you changed my resolve and all I wanted to do was live. But, it just wasn't enough." My straight posture sagged and I dropped my gaze from the camera for a moment before looking back at it.

"Rinzen, I love you. Please don't ever doubt that. I'm truly sorry for putting the case before you. Call me a bastard for leaving you alone so young, but I'm not cut out to be a father."

"As this is the final existence of Mello, I will formally introduce myself to you, Rinzen. I am the son of an esteemed politician and actress. My name is Mihael Keehl, formerly known as Mello." I stood up and stopped the recording, saving it. I returned Matt's laptop to its place on the counter. For a moment, I thought I was going to be sick, my stomach churning distastefully.

The snoring coming from Matt's room stopped and the redhead stumbled out of the room, blinking sleepily. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He noticed my stricken expression and frowned.

"What's with you? You sick or something?"

I considered lying to him, make my death look like a careless mistake, but I knew he would see past it. I was a skilled liar, but Matt could see right through me.

"I'm going to die, Matt." Matt gaped at me for a moment before snorting.

"Good one, Mello, but we need to work on your sense of humor. It's a little-"

"Matt. In all the years you have known me, when have I ever joked?" I asked rhetorically, a nuance of annoyance flashing across my face.

Matt considered me and his eyes widened. "Wait, what? You're fucking serious?!"

"Keep your voice down! I don't want Rinzen to know." I hissed, eyes flicking briefly to the closed bedroom door where she was sleeping.

"Good! And just what is that that you are planning?" Matt growled.

"I'm going to kidnap Kiyomi Takada during her motorcade tomorrow night and interrogate her. You will create a diversion. After you do that, shake off the heat and come back for Rinzen and go to Near's headquarters. I showed you where it was, so hopefully you still remember...and don't tell her I'm dead. At least, not until after the mission is completed." My eyes were downcast. I couldn't bear to look at my friend.

A sudden blow to the face briefly knocked me out of my reverie and I stumbled, ogling at Matt. The redhead was glaring at me vehemently, his chest heaving with fury.

"Do you have any idea what this will do to Rinzen?! This will destroy her and you are just going to stand there and go with the plan? You're so fucking selfish; you always wanted something to die for! And now you're going to deny a four year old her own father?!" Matt was struggling to keep his voice down.

I rubbed my sore jaw and looked dejectedly at the floor. I knew Matt was right, but my mind was made up. "Nothing you say is going to change my mind, Matt. This has to be done and I'm the only one I can do it. And don't think for one second that I haven't considered how this would affect Rinzen. This is more important."

Hurt crossed Matt's face, but I didn't regret my words. If I was anything, it was honest, perhaps brutally so. To me, at the time, the case was more important than my own daughter. Matt's fists clenched and for a second, I thought he was going to hit me again. Then, he sighed.

"Alright...I'll go along with your plan, but I'm blaming you when Rinzen hates me for not stopping you."

I nodded and rubbed my sore jaw. "Get dressed; I...want to spend time with you and Rinzen."

Matt's face softened and he murmured, "Sure thing, buddy."

He went back to his room, closing the door behind him. I went into Rinzen's room. She was curled up tightly in her bed, her hair the only part of her visible. I knelt beside her bed and pulled the covers back to reveal her face. I reached out and placed my hand on her head. She stirred, her large eyes blinking open.

"Daddy?" She yawned.

"Yeah, c'mon; we're going to go out." I murmured.

Rinzen smiled and got up. I helped her get dressed; I was finally comfortable enough to do so. I brushed her hair until the knots were out and tied it up in a ponytail for her. _She needs something to remember me by..._

I took my rosary off and put it around her neck. It was absurdly large, but she looked happy, staring at the cross curiously.

"Hey, Rinzen, how'd you like to spend the night at your aunt's?" I asked.

She beamed and nodded energetically. "Yeah! We can make chocolate chip cookies again! Hopefully Matty won't eat them all and leave you one this time!"

Gah, there's that damn lump again. "Yeah." I smiled shakily and grabbed her little backpack. "Let's get you packed. After we're done, I'll drop you off with her, okay?"

Rinzen hummed her approval, choosing her clothes for the next day. I watched her, so carefree, and dreaded what would happen when she found out my fate. I reached over and carefully patted her head. She looked up at me as I leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"I love you." I whispered.

It was the first and last time I had ever said it to her. She looked so happy, it hurt me, and she replied, "I love you, too, Daddy."

I straightened up and took her hand, leading her out of her room. Matt was waiting in the living room, twirling his car keys around his finger. He managed a smile. Rinzen greeted him blithely before asking me where we were going. I hummed and looked at her.

"Where do you want to go?" I asked her instead.

She gaped at me. "Really?! I can choose?! I wanna go to the petting zoo!"

Matt groaned, stomping down the steps. "Smelly animals?"

I wasn't too thrilled with the idea myself, but grinned and bore it, just to keep her smiling.

There was a place on the outskirts of the city that had a petting zoo. It was a couple hour drive and Rinzen didn't stop talking the whole time we drove. She told us what animal she would pet and feed, asked me what kind of animals they had there, and asked Matt if he was allergic to any.

I stared out the window, answering her though I wasn't paying much attention. The sun was out, thankfully, and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Matt mainly kept her entertained, sensing my thoughts were elsewhere, by playing "I Spy."

The zoo's gate appeared and Matt pulled in. It was already open, but it wasn't too packed yet. We found a decent spot near the zoo entrance. The air, being close to February, was biting, and I was grateful I opted for jeans and my beloved fur hooded jacket instead of my leather. They didn't insulate as well, but when trying to look good, one must make sacrifices.

I paid the fee for the three of us and we walked the path jutting to the right. A group Alpaca were watching the people pass by, chewing lazily. Rinzen ran over to one and immediately began to pat its thick...What do alpacas have anyway? Wool? Hair? Anyway, she petted it. Beside me, Matt snickered.

"Remember when one of the llamas back home spat in Near's face when he wouldn't give it his bread?" I cracked a grin at the memory.

"Or when that cow bit a chunk out of Roger's pants?" I muttered back, the two of us chuckling. The alpaca's tongue slithered out and I grimaced. She would need three bottles of sanitizer after this.

We wandered around the zoo for the next couple of hours. I humored Rinzen when she wanted me to pet a horse. I gave its flank a halfhearted pat, grunting when its tail smacked me. Thankfully, I didn't need to deal with the unsavory smells for long. Rinzen decided she was hungry and wanted sushi for lunch. Matt and I wholeheartedly agreed and left the zoo. But, not before Rinzen made me buy her a stuffed tiger.

When we got to a restaurant, I brought Rinzen into the bathroom with me to wash her hands. She groused the whole time, but I wouldn't let her eat until she washed the animal spit off. Matt stayed at the table, ordering for us.

We went back to our table. Rinzen spoke about the bunnies. She had loved the bunnies and wanted me to buy one for her. I told her I'd think about it. The food came and I helped her break her chopsticks. She held them clumsily before she gave up and used her fingers.

"What would you like to do after this?" Matt inquired, mouth filled with sashimi.

She tapped her chin and kicked her feet. "I dunno! Ooh, could we go to Aunt Hal's next?!"

"Anything you want, kid. It's your day." I answered quietly, dipping my sushi in soy sauce.

Halle was demanding answers from me when we got to her apartment. I wouldn't answer her, only pleaded with her to watch Rinzen for now. She finally relented, but I think she knew. I looked at the clock and stood up.

"Rin, Matty and I have to get going." She looked up from the floor. She had been playing with her new tiger, making growling noises and pretending it was eating Hal's shoes. She ran over and hugged Matt's leg.

"Bye-bye, Matty." She said. He smiled and ruffled her hair.

"See you later, kiddo." She let go of his leg and went to me.

I picked her up and hugged her tightly. She hugged my neck, her face buried in my hair. The last time I'd hold my little girl. "Be good for your aunt, okay?"

She grinned and nodded. "I will! Love you, Daddy!"

I placed her back on the ground. "Love you, too."

I turned and headed for the door with Matt when she called to me again. I looked at her. She suddenly looked bashful, eyes on her feet.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" My heart dropped and I thought she knew. But she had that childish expression and I smiled brokenly.

"Yeah. I'll be here tomorrow."

It's a terrible feeling, lying to your child. Even if it is to protect them. Not a day goes by that I hate myself for lying to her face like that. I see her hopeful face and imagine it crumpled with betrayal. It nauseates me to even describe it.


	19. Death

Matt and I didn't speak to each other for the remainder of the night and part of the morning. I listened to music and attempted to eat my chocolate, he chain smoked and played his stupid games. I think we were both trying to avoid the discussion we were inevitably going to have.

By late morning the next day, though, we both finally had the nerve to look each other in the eye and talk about what was about to go down. I firmly told him I expected him to survive. He snidely remarked, "Aw, Mels, I didn't know you cared!"

I snapped, "Be serious, idiot!"

His mood sobered up quickly after that.

Wordlessly, we went out to where our vehicles were and stood in front of each other.

"Take care of her, Matt." I murmured.

"I will...I'm gonna miss you, man." Matt admitted, blinking fast behind his goggles.

I smirked and we bumped our knuckles together. "Don't get soft on me now. I'll see you on the other side."

I straddled my bike and turned it on, the engine roaring to life. Matt smiled and yelled, "We'll give 'em hell!"

I waved my hand to show I heard and zipped out of the lot and onto the street. I tried to divert my thoughts from the fact that was the last time I'd ever see him alive.

The sun was beginning to set. My last sunset and I didn't have time to admire it. The Queen Bee was leaving the building with her bodyguards tailing after her. She smiled coyly at the flashing cameras, pouting her bright lips. Halle was walking directly beside her, her hawk eyes scoping out the reporters.

I drove idly by, watching Takada. I placed my feet on the ground and waited. A cherry muscle car drove by. I revved the engine obnoxiously.

Matt's car abruptly sped up, turning into the parking lot. I saw his striped arm stick out his window, smoke gun aimed. With a little pop, the thick screen bursted out. He tore out of the scene with several cars after him. The reporters began to scramble, Halle wrapped a protective arm around Takada and began to lead her back toward the building. I drove over and called to them.

"Don't do it. Can't you see it isn't safe for her? Miss Takada, please get on." I gestured to my bike.

Halle stared at me, hard, before she murmured something to Takada and the spokeswoman got on behind me, hugging my narrow waist. I pulled out of the lot and onto the street. Three black cars followed beside me. Takada didn't speak to me and I didn't try to make conversation. I vaguely wondered if she thought I worked for her. She must have trusted Halle enough to get on my bike.

I saw the street I'd take to get rid of the other cars and turned down it. The street was too narrow for the cars to fit. I turned back onto the main road half a mile later and placed cuffs on Takada.

"W-what are you doing?!" She cried.

I didn't reply, chanting in my head, If I don't do it...

* * *

I drove until I reached the street where I hid a delivery truck. Takada didn't struggle the whole time, remaining oddly quiet. I pulled my bike into the waiting trailer of the truck I had stolen. Takada flew off the bike and pushed herself into a corner. I got off and put the kickstand up before closing the door behind me. Takada was watching me fearfully, hyperventilating. I reached up and took my helmet off and dropped it off to the side. I saw the disgust in her eyes when she saw my scar and I self-consciously brushed my hand across the rough tissue of my cheek. I gritted my teeth.

"Take off everything you're wearing and put it in that box." I bent down and lifted up a sheet. "You can use this blanket to cover up."

She stared at me now with disbelief, as though she was hoping she had misheard me. I pulled my gun out for incentive. "Hurry up."

Takada flinched and turned around, slowly undressing. My eyes never left her the entire time. I didn't feel anything when she undressed, just mild amusement at her poor attempt at being demure. I knew she'd like nothing more than to shoot me with my own gun. I bet she thought I was a pervert. I'm not. This was just a means to an end.

When she got to her bra, she asked hesitantly, "C-can I have the blanket now?"

I grunted and tossed it to her. "Whatever you want."

She caught it and wrapped it around herself. I noticed she took a while to remove her bra, but didn't say anything about it. I silently hopped out the back and got in the truck. I pulled out of the street and got onto the highway heading for Nagano.

The streets were mainly bare, perhaps having to do with my attack. I figured Matt had gotten away by now and should be at Near's with Rinzen. She would be wondering where I was, probably asking Matt. He'd lie to her for a bit until he got the news of my death.

There's no one else who can do this...If I kept telling myself that, maybe I'd believe it.

I looked at the portable television in the truck and exhaled sharply when he saw the familiar Chevelle.

"The unknown man was gunned down earlier this evening." The reporter said stoically.

_Matt, I didn't think you'd be killed...I'm sorry..._I felt my eyes soften, but I didn't cry. That familiar stab of regret came back and I blamed myself for not planning Matt's part more thoughtfully. I should have made sure he had more ammo for his smoke gun, should have mapped out more escape routes, should have-

The abandoned church came into sight and I yanked myself out of my self-loathing and pulled into the building, turned the engine off, and waited.

What would you do if you had nothing to do but wait for your death? Would you play cards, reminisce? Or, perhaps you would go mad. I thought I would. You have no idea how unnerving it is to know your death is coming so soon, but still have no clue when it would hit. To keep my sanity in my last moments, I decided to pray.

_If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my_-I grunted at the pain in my chest.

My heart felt like it was twisting itself into a pretzel and I couldn't stop the pained gasp that escaped my lips. My hands instinctively scrabbled at my chest, pressing themselves flat against my faltering heart. I slumped against the steering wheel, my teeth set in a painful grimace.

"I-if I die before I wa-wake," I gasped out, "I p-pray the Lord my soul to..."

The darkness enclosed in on me, but I still heard myself give the death rattle. I never did finish the prayer. I wonder if that was the reason why I am wandering Mu.

* * *

Halle sped down the road after reporting the kidnapping to Near. Rinzen was in the back seat, staring at the passing scenery. She was oblivious. Halle was envious.

She noticed the smoke before she saw the church. She pulled up and got out of her car, running to the church. The heat stopped her and she saw the silhouette of a truck.

"Oh, no, Mello...!" She cried.

"D-Daddy? Daddy is in there?" She looked down. Rinzen had followed her out of the car.

"Go back in the car, Rinzen." She said shakily, a tear sliding down her face.  
Rinzen ignored her, staring at the flames. Her eyes were wide. "D-Daddy? Daddy? Where's Daddy?!"

Halle knelt down and hugged Rinzen tightly, crying. Rinzen, seeming to understand, screamed and began to sob.

"I want Daddy! M-make him come out!" She sobbed into Halle's shoulder.

"He's gone..." Halle murmured, hugging the screaming child tightly.

* * *

Dear listener, you have heard all I have to say on the matter of my life. I have told you, from start to finish, my short and pointless existence. Or, maybe not so pointless. My existence had a purpose, to be a tool for Near in the end. I tried to fight against my fate, but it didn't work out the way I had hoped.


End file.
